tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37806609021334271572018-03-05T16:18:51.608-08:00Explore FatigueA runner and educator's perspective on human strivingEric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-4877722823924858652014-06-03T14:51:00.000-07:002014-06-03T18:52:36.458-07:00Hold the SALT<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qAyaOS8cTtY/U437SPqJpDI/AAAAAAAAH5c/u6DmaMT7WHo/s1600/HH_map.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qAyaOS8cTtY/U437SPqJpDI/AAAAAAAAH5c/u6DmaMT7WHo/s1600/HH_map.png" height="256" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Loop devised by Matt Kirk and mapped by Brad Kee, both of whom have now completed the trek. <a href="http://appvoices.org/2014/04/09/connecting-the-dots-of-the-southern-appalachian-loop-trail/" target="_blank">Credit</a>&nbsp;and more.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Supposing a picture is worth a thousand words I can tell this story in a little over the equivalent of 4000 words -- one for each of the four full days I spent fast-packing half of the Southern Appalachian Loop Trail (SALT). I closed in on 200 miles connecting the Foothills Trail, Palmetto Trail, Bracken Mountain Trail, Art Loeb Trail, and Mountains to Sea Trail. I stopped as I approached the Appalachian Trail through the Smokies and therefore missed that portion of the SALT as well as the Bartram Trail.<br /><br /><b>I. Flowing over Appalachian Foothills.</b><br />My trek began pleasantly enough -- my ambivalence was washed away by the Chattooga River and my spirit invigorated by the lush flora. I spent the first two days (roughly) rolling along the Foothills Trail. The trail is well marked and maintained, and the water crossings so frequent that I could wait until my bottles completely emptied before worrying about refilling them. I cruised along at a modest trekking pace making only the shortest of stops to get, or get rid of, water. I can see why the trail between Oconee and Table Rock State Parks is a popular thru-hike. I'd love to return and do it with my kids sometime.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KvTSfFH9nnI/U42wr4X9UhI/AAAAAAAAH4o/ZS6Zl5Y6oSw/s1600/IMG_20140528_133620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KvTSfFH9nnI/U42wr4X9UhI/AAAAAAAAH4o/ZS6Zl5Y6oSw/s1600/IMG_20140528_133620.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1: Flow in the Foothills</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><b>II. Goal Driven</b><br />Completing the Foothills section did not pose any obstacles, but following the Palmetto Trail into the "missing link" and toward Brevard threw me into a goal-oriented mindset that easily slipped into frustration. I found my way to the Jones Gap Trail in the early evening but was greeted by a thunderstorm as I tried to navigate onto an un-mapped trail above Rainbow Falls. I felt pretty resourceful as I decisively scooped water into my bottles, bushwhacked to a shallow rock ledge and perched precariously to wait out the storm. Meanwhile I filtered the water, cooked and ate dinner, and stayed relatively dry. After the storm passed -- but while it continued raining -- I eventually found my way to Rainbow Falls and made the stout climb to Camp Greeneville as darkness approached. As the light -- and my wits -- dimmed I set camp up high on the power-line cut that I would follow to DuPont State Forest on day 3.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mhmn1EE8mcg/U42w1iyBSYI/AAAAAAAAH4w/U2j4FDzrlPQ/s1600/IMG_20140529_080042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mhmn1EE8mcg/U42w1iyBSYI/AAAAAAAAH4w/U2j4FDzrlPQ/s1600/IMG_20140529_080042.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 2: Getting more serious traversing the tricky Palmetto Trail.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b>III. Losing my Grip.</b><br />As I got into my tent and casually munched some trail mix while warming back up in my bag, I expected to easily fall asleep. As with all five nights I would spend on the trail, however, I found no rest for my weariness. I tossed and turned, barely sleeping despite relatively plush gear. I packed a CCF pad as well as an inflatable Klymit pad, an inflatable pillow, and a 30F down sleeping bag -- all inside a pretty airy hexamid solplex tent from zpacks. I carried all that because I knew at age 45 I needed more cushion for my bones in order to be able to sleep well. &nbsp;I had to custom make a waist-pack to be able carry the tent and sleeping bag and maintain mobility to run (or trot really) the flats and downs. Although the kit worked as intended I began to slip into the trap of sleep-deprivation.<br /><br />On day 3 I made several wrong turns and backtracked multiple times as I second-guessed many decisions. I carried maps and a compass (a lesson I learned from the CT last year) but at times that made matters worse because the map didn't match the ground (at least not at the scale I was experiencing it). To get through the DuPont State Forest, for example, I knew that I had to get on the Cornmill Shoals Trail. I came upon a sign, and I knew I needed to go west, but it wasn't clear which way to proceed from the intersection. I would follow one fork as it meandered away from the intersection in a roughly westerly direction only to find that a half mile later it turned and headed back toward the east. So I would backtrack and follow it in the other direction only to find that the trail also meandered haphazardly that way. I became exasperated (multiple times). My feelings were amplified by my state of mind, and would have troubled me much less had my brain been working better. As quickly as I had sunk into despair, my spirits were lifted when Matt Kirk materialized abruptly in front of me mid-morning. He gave me pizza, pineapple, and tea that I carried along as we trotted through the final couple stretches of DuPont and emerged for a modest road section into Brevard. I was able to cruise into Brevard before noon, with plenty of time to eat Mexican and re-supply at Food Lion. Even so I wandered back and forth on Main Street completely disoriented and unable to make a simple decision.<br /><br />I left Brevard feeling refueled and energized, and made good time on the bike-smoothed Bracken Mt Trail. The terrain was easy all the way to the Art Loeb, and then changed abruptly. That trail tended to get tougher as I headed North, and culminated with the climb up Pilot Mountain. Fortunately I came upon my intended stopping point more quickly than expected, and had yet another early evening that should have been relaxing and made possible a good rest. I happened upon a group of 4 backpackers staying at the Deep Gap shelter. They were excellent company -- even sharing a brat (and offering beer that I declined) -- but I probably would have made better decisions alone. Although my feet were wet and extremely tender, for example, I didn't get out of my shoes immediately. (They had set up a tent inside the shelter and had occupied the space I would have needed to go shoe-less. Also, my feet reeked -- and not just typical foot odor. More explanation on section IV). Although I noticed they had packed in plenty of alcohol I set up my tent near the shelter. I doubt I would have slept regardless, but I did get mildly frustrated after I laid down to sleep and listened to them carry on into the evening.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q559bG_mWNk/U42xFVKPtdI/AAAAAAAAH44/CKGnk0HcVWQ/s1600/IMG_20140530_184000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q559bG_mWNk/U42xFVKPtdI/AAAAAAAAH44/CKGnk0HcVWQ/s1600/IMG_20140530_184000.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 3: Big climb up Pilot Mountain late in the day after many bonus miles</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8uugbjax18/U43_7abR4xI/AAAAAAAAH5w/jDshEWzLD8g/s1600/AT+thru+hike+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8uugbjax18/U43_7abR4xI/AAAAAAAAH5w/jDshEWzLD8g/s1600/AT+thru+hike+019.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwback parallel shot from my AT thru-hike in 1998 after a long climb in the Whites.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b>IV. Why Stop?</b><br /><br />Day 4 was supposed to have been the shortest of the trek. I overshot the turnoff from Art Loeb to Mountains To Sea Trail (MST), though, and added 3+ miles. (The trail marker had been taken and the trail was not obvious otherwise). Later, I also overshot a large switchback on the MST that wasn't mapped and therefore went back and forth on that, adding another couple of miles. Although it didn't rain on me, the humidity was once again high and the vegetation along the trail was lush and wet. My feet stayed soaked all day. I began the day dragging from another sleepless night. I don't know that I would have felt like continuing except that Rob French made the trip from Greensboro to run with me for the day. My spirits immediately buoyed when I saw him coming toward me. Rob and I care about similar things, but he has this personable side that I seem to lack. He's just easy to be with. We ran together for about ten hours. Things I would have fretted over had I been alone I was able to manage with him along. He was with me when I overshot the switchback, and it made all the difference. Instead of cussing into the wind I just talked it over with him. And even though he always said (even when I crazily suggested bushwhacking up a creek) that it was my trek and he'd go along with my decision, somehow I made a better decision because I was able to ask him about it first. My energy and pace stayed steady, even as I felt my &nbsp;grip over my emotions ever-loosening.<br /><br />What I really like about talking with Rob is he doesn't mind to get right into honest conversation. He admitted, for example, that he showed up in part because he didn't have any good enough reason <i>not</i> to. That pretty well summed up some of my feeling about starting the SALT trek. It was Matt Kirk's idea, after all, and two other guys were supposed to be in as well. I just happened to be the last guy who didn't have a good enough reason to pull out. So maybe I was looking for it. The forty-mile days weren't going to kill me, though. Those seemed to me a reasonable day's work. The tendinitis and swelling on my right foot really wasn't prohibitive either. By the end of day 4, though, the skin on my feet was really getting angry. I knew what was happening because it happened to me once before just over a year ago. My feet stayed wet for over 24 hours during the Cruel Jewel 100 in Georgia and I felt them go raw inside my shoes. When I finally took off my shoes at the end the stench was nauseating. I thought my skin was going to peel off. Now again I was experiencing the first stages of trench foot -- a fungal infection which left untreated can have dire consequences. The infection is quite manageable, of course. All you have to do is stop and keep your feet dry. My feet were painful and the thought of managing them caused me concern.<br /><br />The truth is, though, I didn't feel forced to stop. I could have managed something. I could have stopped for "air breaks" during the day and rotated the 3 pairs of socks I now had (I started with 2). I could have run into town and bought a light pair of sandals to rotate with my shoes. I could have applied anti-fungal powder several times during the day. I don't know for sure what would have worked, but I know I hadn't yet been debilitated. The inflammation went down enough on night 4 to run again on day 5, so I did. Despite another night of very little and very restless sleep, I easily covered 26 miles before noon. But my feet burned, and I didn't want to deal with them. I didn't want to figure out how to manage. The miles had allowed many other percolating thoughts to surface -- things I cared more about. My kids are finishing school this week and want me to acknowledge their accomplishments (they both have award ceremonies this week). And they want a ride to the Amusement Park. And I want them to know that I love them. And I have responsibilities at work and around the house that I don't have good reasons to expect others (like my wife) to step in and takeover just because I want to show that I can cover a lot of ground in a few days.<br /><br />So, as everything else got stripped away that is just the truth that I was left with. I felt like stopping.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6Z1KmEJcuM/U420IxtYciI/AAAAAAAAH5M/EkqY76RVev0/s1600/IMG_20140531_193825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x6Z1KmEJcuM/U420IxtYciI/AAAAAAAAH5M/EkqY76RVev0/s1600/IMG_20140531_193825.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 4: First signs of trench foot. Good enough reason to stop?</td></tr></tbody></table>I haven't fully sorted out what that means for future endeavors. I feel re-oriented around some of the things I really care about. One of those is completing a book project that I started last spring. I feel I have gained a determination to complete that project in proportion to any diminution of motivation to complete an FKT. I feel strongly enough that I'm re-jiggering some of my well-established habits. That project itself could be grist for a future post. Ask me about my progress and I'll let you know.<br /><br />V. Other SALT Resources<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><a href="http://trackleaders.com/salt" target="_blank">Trackleaders.com</a>. Cool website for comparing attempts on this and other long trails. <a href="http://trackleaders.com/support" target="_blank">Donate here</a> to support.<br /><br /><a href="http://wnctrailrunner.wikispaces.com/SAGE" target="_blank">wnctrailrunner wiki</a><br /><br /><a href="http://appvoices.org/2014/04/09/connecting-the-dots-of-the-southern-appalachian-loop-trail/" target="_blank">Matt Kirk's article</a> on Appalachian Voice<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P5Uby_lsACw/U44zFsutbVI/AAAAAAAAH6I/ZE7TwY5Fvcs/s1600/kit+edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P5Uby_lsACw/U44zFsutbVI/AAAAAAAAH6I/ZE7TwY5Fvcs/s1600/kit+edit.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></div><br /><u>Some of the ultralight gear I used:</u><br /><br /><ul><li>Zpacks solplex tent</li><li>Zpacks 30F down bag</li><li>Gossamer gear thinlight CCF pad</li><li>Klymit Inertia Xlite pad</li><li>Gossamer gear lt3c trekking poles</li><li>Salomon Skin Pro 10+3 pack</li><li>Princeton Tec Apex Pro Headlamp</li><li>DIY waistpack from recycled nylon hammock</li></ul><br /><br /><br />Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-89435548696468482682014-05-26T18:15:00.002-07:002014-05-27T05:49:37.429-07:00What am I Doing?The table in the den is piled with snack crackers, dehydrated dinners, a scant pile of clothes, and sundry items scattered for my appraisal. I spent the morning scouring 3 Trails Illustrated maps, marking the route I'll follow starting on Wednesday. I sent a message out to a few friends and family with the link to my Spot share page so they can follow me around the SALT circuit. SALT stands for Southern Appalachian Loop Trail, a 380 mile traverse conceived by Matt Kirk connecting several iconic trails: Mountains to Sea, Art Loeb, Foothills, Bartram, and of course the Appalachian Trail through the Smoky Mountains.<br /><br />The odd thing is I don't feel very strongly about going. I don't have that manic excitement I can recall when I first decided to thru-hike the AT. That idea came to me in the middle of the night and I stayed wide awake with the revelation that I was going to do this colossal thing. Those days are past. This morning I struggled to pry my eyes open long after the sun began leaking into the bedroom.<br /><br />After I completed the AT hike in 1998 I met my wife. Gavin was born in 2000. When a guy conceives a child he immediately becomes more risk-averse. I sold my motorcycle that same year. What happens when a guy is old enough to have grandchildren? So much has been gained -- a Life really. Even so, it's hard not to feel the loss as well. I shouldn't, but I mourn what might have been. That must be what lies at the center of a mid-life crisis. At least I don't feel so strongly about it now. Gone too is the verve that marked my younger days.<br /><br />So what of Explore Fatigue? Why has this blog gone dormant since last summer's failed FKT attempt of the Colorado Trail? Fatigue occurs when zealous striving temporarily drains a person. I barely know fatigue now. In the 10 months since I meekly conceded the FKT attempt I haven't stopped running. I ran Iron Mountain, Stump Jump, Mountain Masochist, Hellgate, and Thunder Rock. I've fast-packed two longish trips, done a few long training weekends, and cued up about 550 miles of fast-packing for the coming two months. But the strongest feelings I've had about running are relatively mild feelings of dread. My joints ache, but I really haven't even had a sore muscle. Even when I ran myself into the wall on back-to-back training runs (to encourage energy storage) I didn't so much <i>feel</i> it as I just <i>noted</i> it -- with faint satisfaction.<br /><br />Without the compelling conviction to strive for the top, I have to wonder:&nbsp;<i>What AM I doing?</i>&nbsp;I should be painting the house. Or golfing with Gavin. Or scrambling eggs for Catherine and Loren. I think about that not a little bit. And still I hunkered for hours over the sewing machine to fabricate a pack to secure my cuben fiber tent and UL down sleeping bag to my waist. Is it just force of habit? An odd compulsion that no longer requires the sensation of an inner drive?<br /><br />Here's another possibility: I shouldn't do it. There are many good reasons to stay home, including the state of my mind and body. There are no material enticements for proceeding. If, given these conditions, I do it anyway, what will be proved? Go ahead, you know what I'm talking about -- what is the only thing that really makes it all worth it? What is ultimately valuable in any human endeavor?<br /><br />If you'd like a link to follow my trek just post a comment with your e-mail. Even if I'm already gone Robin can send you that.Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-48967566907657742002013-07-23T14:33:00.003-07:002013-07-23T14:33:46.790-07:00Navigation Error Requires Early Exit from Record AttemptI had heard about the new section of Colorado Trail known as "Collegiate West." It follows the Continental Divide Trail on a spectacular, exposed and steep 80 mile alternative to the "Collegiate East" trail of the original Colorado Trail. I knew that we would need to stay on the original section in order to compare finish times and claim the record. My (mistaken) impression, however, was that the new section of trail wasn't marked as CT yet and that even if it was the split in the trail would be obvious and I would know which branch to follow.<br /><br />As you know by the title of this post I followed CT markings along the wrong alternative, bypassing my crew and proceeding for miles along a route for which I had no map and no resources. Once I realized my mistake I had no good alternative but to turn around and backtrack to find my crew and end my attempt.<br /><br />There is much to be said about the 4 1/2 days I spent on this team mission -- and I will soon enough. For now let me say that I'm glad we are all well and left with a potent feeling of unfinished business. A couple more fourteeners before leaving CO may provide some outlet...Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-4493443218203018532013-07-21T13:30:00.000-07:002013-07-21T13:30:07.347-07:00Colorado Trail - Days 3 and 4 (Part I)<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Day 3, Original Goal:&nbsp; 61 miles; Actual mileage:&nbsp; 45 miles (16 miles behind original plan), Carson Saddle to Eddiesville Trailhead, July 20, 2013</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">5:30 am When I asked Eric the night before what time he wanted to rise for day 3, he said he didn’t want to set the alarm.&nbsp; He was bushed from epic day 2, but when 5:30 am around, he and Troy were ready to get up and get moving. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">6:25 am &nbsp;Eric and Troy leave Carson Saddle for what adventures await them today.&nbsp; Crew access is planned for Highway 149, Spring Creek Pass, 17 miles in, and again at Eddiesville Trailhead, 27 miles further down the trail.&nbsp; Eric and Troy anticipate they may want to stop at Eddiesville Trailhead, instead of continuing on to Saguache Park Road, 14 miles beyond Eddiesville Trailhead.&nbsp; With Eric and Troy on their way, Guy and I pack camp and begin heading back down the mountain to meet up with Stephanie who slept in her car the night before, not knowing anything about how Troy and Eric were doing.&nbsp; Needless to say, she is &nbsp;glad to see us and to hear that Troy and Eric have pressed on.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">10:45 am Eric and Troy arrive together at Highway 149, Spring Creek Pass.&nbsp; They take a good break, consuming lots of calories and resting in the shade for a bit.&nbsp; They are in good spirits.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">11:25 am Eric heads out for the next 27 miles to Eddiesville Trailhead.&nbsp; Troy holds back a bit to finish eating and take a quick nap.&nbsp; Eric anticipates it will take him 6.5 hours to get to Eddiesville.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">11:55 am Troy heads down the trail.&nbsp; We pack up and head into Lake City to refresh supplies, including gas, chocolate milk for Troy and a sweet find of homemade banana bread, and then head over to the library to update the blog on Day 1 and Day 2 happenings.&nbsp; After that we’re on the road again for a long drive out winding, narrow Colorado roads to get to our next access point at Eddiesville.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">4:00 pm&nbsp; We arrive at Eddiesville and estimate that the guys will be arriving about 6 pm.&nbsp; At 5 pm, I head out on the trail thinking that I’ll meet up with them and join them on the trek back into the crew access point.&nbsp; I hike until 6 pm with no sign of Eric or Troy. This was disconcerting because I was expecting at least Eric to arrive to the trailhead by 6:30 pm.&nbsp; I wait until 6:20 pm and then start heading back to the trailhead.&nbsp; On my way back, I see Guy.&nbsp; I had mentioned to Stephanie and Guy that I thought I would be back in about one hour.&nbsp; When two hours have passed and I have not yet returned, Guy decides to head out on the trail.&nbsp; When we meet up, Guy mentions that&nbsp;it is looking more and more likely that Troy and Eric will not want to press on the additional 14 miles to Saguache Park Rd. and we might want to start setting up camp.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">7:30 pm Stephanie and I park our chairs with a clear, long view of the trail, straining our eyes to see Troy and Eric coming our way.&nbsp; At 8:15 pm, we determine we better get the tents set up because it’s looking less and less likely that they will want to push on.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">8:30 pm&nbsp; Eric arrives at camp looking pretty beat.&nbsp; That section took more out of him than he anticipated.&nbsp; He said his engine just wasn’t working like he wanted it to.&nbsp; At some point during the day, he lay down on the trail and took a rest, thinking that Troy might catch up to him.&nbsp; Eric got into some dry clothes, ate a cheeseburger and stew, took a sponge bath, and got in his sleeping bag.&nbsp; He expressed concern that he and Troy had dug themselves too deep a hole with day 2 and wondered about their plan for making up the lost 16 miles from today.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">9:00 pm Troy arrives into camp looking pretty upbeat.&nbsp; He said that he had decided he was not going beyond Eddiesville Trailhead and determined to just take his time and enjoy the 27 miles.&nbsp; He stopped along the way and washed off in a creek.&nbsp; He’s been having frequent nosebleeds, due to the altitude, I suppose.&nbsp; Just as he was about to go to sleep, Eric heard Troy arrive into camp.&nbsp; He asked me to talk with Troy and find out what the plan was for Day 4 so they could determine what time to get up in the morning. Troy ate his dinner and got ready for bed. &nbsp;Guy has been studying the maps and&nbsp; was able to tell us that in order to make up for lost mileage today, Eric and Troy should at least try to make it to a point 9 miles before Marshall Pass Trailhead. The only concern about that though is crew access.&nbsp; We’d have to do another hike in to get to them, carrying all of their supplies and what we’d need for the overnight.&nbsp; Troy was resistant, saying he wants to be able to access all his gear. &nbsp;We determine we’ll get up at 5:30 in the morning and make some final decisions about day 4 then.&nbsp; I make sure Eric’s Garmin data is uploaded to the computer and head to bed about 10:30 pm. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Day 4, Original Goal:&nbsp; 48 miles; Revised Goal (Note: Day 4 still in progress):&nbsp; 55 miles (9 miles behind original plan), Eddiesville Trailhead to point on trail 9 miles before Marshall Pass, July 21, 2013</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">2:50 am&nbsp; Eric wakes me and tells me he’s ready to get up and get moving.&nbsp; He’s been lying there awake for a while and just wants to get on the trail.&nbsp; I express concern about Troy and the notion of Eric leaving before him.&nbsp; How would the crew access both of them?&nbsp; What if Troy doesn’t want to go as far as Eric today?&nbsp; Eric is focused on the goal of finishing the CT in record time (of course).&nbsp; He tells me he’ll go talk with Troy.&nbsp; A few minutes later, here comes Troy raring to go for the day.&nbsp; Stephanie, Guy, and I help with breakfast and preparations as Troy and Eric set out to begin day 4 in the middle of the night.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">3:40 am Eric and Troy head off into the night.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">7:00 am Eric arrives at Saguache Rd., 14 miles in for the day.&nbsp; Troy arrives 5 minutes later.&nbsp; They both eat an egg and tomato sandwich and other snacks before heading out at 7:25 and 7:35 respectively.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">10:50 am Eric arrives at Highway 114, 27 miles in for the day.&nbsp; Troy arrives at 11 am.&nbsp; Eric eats, rests, and heads out about 11:15 am, telling Troy he plans to take a rest along the trail somewhere.&nbsp; Troy eats and rests, but doesn’t eat as much as the crew would like him to.&nbsp; Eric and Troy can’t afford to get behind on their calories.&nbsp; Troy is having a low point mentally.&nbsp; Knowing that he still has 30 miles to go for the day and no crew access can’t help. &nbsp;Eventually though,&nbsp;&nbsp;he gets up out of the chair, straps on his pack, and takes the first step.&nbsp; Guy walks with him the ¼ mile to the trailhead and off he goes.&nbsp; I think one thing that is disconcerting to Troy is that he is having to depend on us to remember everything he needs for the night since we’ll be having to hike in again to them tonight.&nbsp; Guy and I will hike in to camp, while Stephanie goes on to Marshall Pass so Eric and Troy will be assured of aid at the 9 mile point tomorrow, Day 5. What else will Day 4 hold for us? &nbsp;We're heading back out to the mountains to see.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CT-IcBMNYI8/UexEfOCFO7I/AAAAAAAAJq0/fMJVQvZxXp4/s1600/P1010118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CT-IcBMNYI8/UexEfOCFO7I/AAAAAAAAJq0/fMJVQvZxXp4/s320/P1010118.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-9108627980108864542013-07-20T13:19:00.000-07:002013-07-20T13:19:46.221-07:00Days 0 - 2 on the Colorado Trail<div class="MsoNormal"><b>Colorado Trail – Day 0, July 17, 2013</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Eric, Troy, and I are settled in at our camp site at Junction Creek Trailhead.&nbsp; We arrived here around 2 pm this afternoon after a large grocery shopping trip in preparation for the massive amounts of calories that will be consumed in the coming days.&nbsp; With Troy’s gu’s, gels, crackers, and other snacks laid out on the table, I figured he was surely assessing food items for the coming days.&nbsp; Nope.&nbsp; That was all for tomorrow!&nbsp; He estimates he needs to consume 300 calories per hour and tomorrow is projected to be a 15 hour day, so 4500 calories in food have been stuffed into his Solomon hydration pack.&nbsp; Eric marveled at Troy’s pack but after his hour long packing process, a quick double blindfold test revealed that the packs are pretty close to equal in weight.&nbsp; It’s 7:30 pm now.&nbsp; Dinner is done, dishes are washed, packs are ready for tomorrow, tents are set up, and maps have been studied.&nbsp; A good portion of the afternoon was spent reviewing maps, guidebooks, and a Colorado Gazeteer to ascertain crew access points, elevation profiles,&nbsp; and water availability.&nbsp; Mike Ambrose and Jamie Solberg should be arriving before too long.&nbsp; They both had to work today and were driving down from Leadville.&nbsp; Mike, Eric, and Troy will be starting at 6 am tomorrow morning at the westernmost terminus of the Colorado Trail and traveling 53 or so miles to Bolam Pass.&nbsp; We’ll be depending on Jamie’s Toyota Tacoma to extract the boys from Bolam Pass tomorrow night.&nbsp; We’re grateful for Jamie’s help in the coming couple of days since many access points require a 4x4. &nbsp;&nbsp;Eric and I had quite the adventure yesterday in our trusty 2002 VW Eurovan.&nbsp; After scouting the night 2 overnight near Carson Pass, we attempted to travel over&nbsp; Cinnamon Pass to get to Silverton and then head on to Durango to meet up with Troy.&nbsp; A&nbsp; large ATV staging area should have been a clue we might be getting in over our heads.&nbsp; After 45 minutes of a valiant effort to summit the mountain, we were forced to turn back. We then had to drive an additional 3 hours around the mountain to get to Silverton, accompanied by some new jingles&nbsp; on the underbelly of the van.&nbsp; The upside of this outing was that we learned this would not be a good crew route on Day 3 and we enjoyed seeing mountain goats bounding along in their natural habitat.&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p>Day 1, 53 miles,&nbsp;</o:p>Junction Creek Trailhead to Bolam Pass, &nbsp;July 19, 2013</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">6:05 am - Eric, Mike, and Troy began their journey at the westernmost point on the Colorado Trail, Junction Creek Trailhead near Durango. &nbsp;Jamie Solberg and I were crewing but did not have access to see the guys all day. &nbsp;We were left to wonder how their first day on the CT was going. &nbsp;Jamie and I headed on to Bolam Pass to search out a campsite and wait for the runners to come in that night. &nbsp;After an hour long drive up Hermosa Peak Road, we came to a campsite, still 2 miles below Bolam Pass at 11,350 feet, the end point for the day. &nbsp;Jamie took her Tacoma on up the mountain while I set up camp. &nbsp;About 7:30 pm, Jamie arrived with Eric and Mike and then headed back up the mountain to retrieve Troy. &nbsp;Eric and Mike finished day 1 at 7 pm, with Troy finishing at 8 pm. &nbsp;Troy was suffering the ill effects of his first day at altitude with intense headache and nausea. &nbsp;Eric cleaned up, ate, some dinner, prepped his bag for the next day, and settled in. &nbsp;Everyone was in their tents by about 9:30 pm. &nbsp;So far, so good.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Day 2, 57 miles, Bolam Pass to Carson Saddle, &nbsp;July 20, 2013</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">4:00 am - Camp wakes up and begins preparations for Day 2 on the Colorado Trail. &nbsp;Jamie heads up the remaining 2 miles to Bolam Pass with the fellows about 4:45 am.</div><div class="MsoNormal">5:10 am - Eric, Mike, and Troy begin their day 2 trek.</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:40 am - Eric and Mike arrive at the parking lot near Little Molas Lake to a great surprise. &nbsp;David Horton, Allysa Wildeboar, her husband Travis, and friend George are all at the parking area waiting on the arrival of Eric, Troy, and Mike. &nbsp;Eric couldn't have been more surprised and happy to see Horton. &nbsp;After some nagging hamstring issues, Mike decided to call it a day and planned to join Jamie en route to the next crew access point 20 miles further down the trail. &nbsp;Horton recommended we could meet the Eric and Troy at Stony Pass, near Silverton. &nbsp;We thought that Jamie's Tacoma could make it.</div><div class="MsoNormal">10:10 am - Troy arrives at the Little Molas Lake aid station and is looking strong. &nbsp;He refuels and heads on his way. &nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal">4 pm - Crew members Stephanie Wissing and Guy Love arrive in Lake City and meet me at the library. &nbsp;We plan to head out to the Mill Creek Campground to find Jamie and Mike who will be retrieving Eric and Troy off the mountain at Carson Saddle. &nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal">4:45 pm - I receive a phone call from Mike telling me that he and Jamie are still in Silverton. &nbsp;They had made it to Stony Pass, but had to leave supplies for Eric and Troy and get back down the mountain due to the pouring rain and storms. &nbsp;They said Silverton was in floodlike conditions. &nbsp;At this point, Stephanie, Troy, and I have to figure out how we're going to get Eric and Troy off the mountain. &nbsp;We went to two jeep rental places and even asked someone at a campground if they would want to take us up the mountain. &nbsp;When those plans fell through, Guy and I decided we'd just have to hike the five miles up the mountain with Eric and Troy's overnight supplies, food, and water ourselves. &nbsp;Carson Saddle sits at 12,366 feet.</div><div class="MsoNormal">6:45 pm - Guy and I head out to begin our trek up the mountain to Carson Saddle. &nbsp;I know what Eric and Troy are doing is beyond belief and requires an extreme amount of endurance, but carrying that 30+ pound duffle bag 5 miles up the mountain was no easy task.&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal">8:45 and 9 pm - Guy arrives and then I arrive at Carson Saddle. &nbsp;We're wet, cold, and it's nearly dark. &nbsp;We hurriedly set up the two tents we've brought and get sleeping bags ready. &nbsp;I stand for a long time searching in the dark for two headlamps coming our way, but eventually get in the tent to warm up.</div><div class="MsoNormal">9:45 pm - I hear Eric talking and am so grateful he and Troy have arrived. &nbsp;They couldn't have known to expect to see Guy and me at the saddle. &nbsp;Our plan was for Jamie to pick them up at the saddle and drive them back down the mountain, camp overnight at Mill Creek, and allow Troy some more time to acclimate. Regardless, they were grateful we were there and quickly got out of their wet clothes and into their sleeping bags. &nbsp;I got some hot food ready which they ate while lying in their bags. If you read Eric's blog regularly you know what a great writer he is. &nbsp;It will be interesting to read his account of yesterday's epic adventure, but for now, I can just tell you that Eric and Troy both used the word "epic" many times to describe their adventures yesterday. &nbsp;They suffered for four hours in the rain and cold without adequate clothing. Eric did appreciate his shell he got from Mt. Rogers Outfitters but could have used more clothing. &nbsp;After some time, Troy was cold and becoming incoherent. &nbsp;His self assessment was that he was nearly hypothermic. &nbsp;Eric said they had little choice but to carry on and make it to Carson Saddle. &nbsp;Carry on they did, but not without having suffered greatly. &nbsp;We're only 2 days in to this adventure. &nbsp;What will day 3 hold?</div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-14512946437048300072013-07-13T15:22:00.000-07:002013-07-15T09:35:14.508-07:00The Craziest 15 Days Since I was 15 Years OldFifteen days ago I arrived in Frisco Colorado. All I needed was to <i>be</i> at elevation in order to acclimatize. I played a round of disc golf and then settled behind the garage of Mike Ambrose and Ryan Krisch. We barbecued and drank beers. All seemed calm, but something -- reposed like a distant king of beasts -- beckoned from the distance. As Mike rattled off all the routes we might do before embarking on the mission (the potential achievement of a lifetime to set a speed record of the 480 mile Colorado Trail) I pointed over the back fence and said simply: "why don't we go up<i> that</i>?"<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-42DK5Fswj2k/UeB9bUz61CI/AAAAAAAACUg/GBtM17YVbvg/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-42DK5Fswj2k/UeB9bUz61CI/AAAAAAAACUg/GBtM17YVbvg/s400/1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peak 1 pictured from Mike's garage</td></tr></tbody></table>So began the craziest 15 days since I was 15 years old. Mike and I jogged to the trailhead from his house the next morning and the ascended steadily for almost 2 hours. The climb was steep and technical gaining nearly 4000'. I felt lightheaded once we were over about 12,000'. The mountain peaks at about 12,800'. Once down from the mountain good sense should have dictated that I rest and recover. I recall saying aloud that the next time I would bring my camera and spend the whole day, sauntering lazily, hovering over wildflowers and mountain streams. Ah, but where did my good sense go?<br /><br />For the next day Mike suggested a more modest sounding trek up the Peaks Trail to the CT and across the pass to Copper Mountain. He said we could easily hop the bus from there back to Frisco. This was indeed a beautiful route, and I got my first taste of the footing on the CT (deceptively runnable). We were inbound into Copper when the outbound bus passed us, waving us off as we tried to flag the driver. Mike said it would be easy to hitch a ride, so we stuck our thumbs out. Twenty minutes later we decided to run the 8 miles of bike trail back. This would have been an easy hour except that it was now midday and the sun blazed down without tree cover or the 9000' of extra atmosphere enjoyed by flatlanders. We got baked.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7MevEFRKweU/UeCC4MWg6WI/AAAAAAAACUw/p4YpMbLgPEY/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7MevEFRKweU/UeCC4MWg6WI/AAAAAAAACUw/p4YpMbLgPEY/s400/2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Colorado Trail above Copper Mountain</td></tr></tbody></table>One might have hoped that my lesson was learned. Little did I know that I had stepped into a current that was quickly sweeping me out to deeper water. I was quietly recovering and working on my computer at Mike's when Jamie Solberg happened by and lured me like a Siren to climb Mt. Harvard with Sal, another of Mike's friends. I drove to the relatively remote trailhead past Buena Vista and spent the night in my van. The next day I went over 14,000' for the first time in my life. I'll never be the same.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MpSSHnLqK6A/UeCGVcHvwuI/AAAAAAAACVA/_s_Ye-C1-a4/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MpSSHnLqK6A/UeCGVcHvwuI/AAAAAAAACVA/_s_Ye-C1-a4/s400/3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way up Mt. Harvard, my first fourteener</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The faint resistance I could muster was no match for Sal's next suggestion: La Plata peak. We spent the night at the trailhead and got another early start lest we get caught again -- as we had descending from Harvard -- by an afternoon thunderstorm.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EL53WffO_7k/UeCHZ7apE0I/AAAAAAAACVM/X5nFkXKsGPc/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EL53WffO_7k/UeCHZ7apE0I/AAAAAAAACVM/X5nFkXKsGPc/s400/4.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sal leading the way up La Plata</td></tr></tbody></table>Sal, Jamie, and Mike finally returned to a quasi-normal work schedule and I was left to my own devices. I set up camp on Half Moon Road outside of Leadville, finally granted the freedom of solitude. I wasn't aware that my demons were awaiting just such an opportunity. Travelling alone at the foot of Massive mountain I was seized by them. This isn't the place to reveal those struggles, but suffice to say that I feel like, as the Avett Brother's sing: "you may have to drag me from my demons, kicking and screaming...been so long now, I've been with them, don't know where they stop and I begin." [<i>Paul Newman vs. The Demons</i>: The Carpenter]<br /><br />The struggle, alas, drew me upward twice more: The Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive trailheads are on Half Moon road just miles from my campsite.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qBS3gQ9Jbo/UeG3IcfqfoI/AAAAAAAACVc/I6mjleG9CSE/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qBS3gQ9Jbo/UeG3IcfqfoI/AAAAAAAACVc/I6mjleG9CSE/s400/5.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The long walk up the 2nd highest peak in the lower 48: Mt. Elbert</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VZCkLcdXRwo/UeG3KsLrdqI/AAAAAAAACVk/7F5ntrq2lw4/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VZCkLcdXRwo/UeG3KsLrdqI/AAAAAAAACVk/7F5ntrq2lw4/s400/6.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The never ending view from Mt. Massive</td></tr></tbody></table>Thankfully I had a propitious plan for the end of the week. When I first arrived in Frisco Mike helped me make arrangements to get tickets to go to the Avett Brother's concert at Rock Rocks near Denver. We set up a tailgate-style barbecue well before the show started. By the time we got around to filing into the amazing amphitheater there were no good spaces left to occupy. Instead we found ourselves in the far back corner, along with a group of a dozen women enjoying a bachelorette party.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OkHAe4sjdFg/UeHRuUwqBCI/AAAAAAAACV0/vwOkM6muB6I/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OkHAe4sjdFg/UeHRuUwqBCI/AAAAAAAACV0/vwOkM6muB6I/s400/7.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike turns as we climb the stairs into the Red Rocks amphitheater</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">This could have made sense as a birthday celebration except that Sal and Jamie had already convinced me to trek the Tenmile traverse between Frisco and Breckenridge starting at 5am the next morning – the dawn of my actual birthday. After ascending nearly 4000’ up Peak 1 the route goes directly over 9 more peaks as it follows the rocky ridgeline. The trek was absolutely beautiful and we truly had a blast, but it was also very difficult. I am not particularly sure-footed on rock, and I will nearly always favor caution over speed. So I took my time on this technical terrain. By the time I got to Peak 8 my left Achilles was tweaked and my mind wandered from sleep deprivation. In perhaps my first wise decision in nearly two weeks I opted to head down the ski slope from the peak into Breckenridge. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__6aHSKtdIc/UeHSHnE2-kI/AAAAAAAACV8/e1PhgLczeQ4/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__6aHSKtdIc/UeHSHnE2-kI/AAAAAAAACV8/e1PhgLczeQ4/s400/8.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamie and Sal right at home on the Tenmile traverse</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">I took the two days after that easy having already arranged to travel with Jon Harrison to Aspen’s international gem: the Maroon Bells Four Pass loop. This is likely the only route I could have done that would top what I had already seen. I had originally intended to spend summer vacation in Glacier National Park again this summer because that area is so alluring for trail running. The Maroon Bells has a very similar attraction – it has to be one of the world’s greatest natural attractions. Jon is a fantastic running partner: strong, smart, funny, and spontaneous.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ylnm1jlKI_4/UeHSX50zHjI/AAAAAAAACWE/FRvXGbvXSK8/s1600/ascent.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ylnm1jlKI_4/UeHSX50zHjI/AAAAAAAACWE/FRvXGbvXSK8/s400/ascent.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jon climbing toward the second of four passes around the Maroon Bells</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Mike, Jon, Sal, and Jamie squeeze every bit of activity they can into the summer months in the high Rockies. The climate, both geographically and socially, pulls the able-bodied outward and upward. I feel completely at home here, sucking every molecule of oxygen out of the air in order to ascend to the highest possible point. So despite my need to rest prior to the speed record attempt, I began looking for a way to invest in Leadville. Jon and Mike need a place to live, and I’d like a base camp for adventures in the coming summers – for me and my kids. I employed a real estate agent and was showed multiple properties.&nbsp; I drew up a contract to purchase a house – one that the seller has not yet agreed to. I’m afraid I don’t have time to put any more energy into it before the CT trek. That I would come to a place and within 15 days put an offer on a house should provide a clue about the intensity of the experiences I’ve had here. They really only compare to those of childhood -- a childhood I gave up by about the age of 15.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPN0RDdMBKs/UeHStdn6eMI/AAAAAAAACWM/rf_WMuABVDM/s1600/entry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPN0RDdMBKs/UeHStdn6eMI/AAAAAAAACWM/rf_WMuABVDM/s400/entry.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will I have a place in Leadville?</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-88819420677740504052013-07-01T13:54:00.001-07:002013-07-02T12:35:16.765-07:00Getting Ready for the Elevation in CO<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/OsrfziIv7dI?rel=0" width="420"></iframe> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">After several days of running around and squawking like a kindergartner at recess I have finally settled into an appropriate high elevation encampment on Half Moon Road just outside of Leadville. My Sierra Designs Mondo Condo now occupies a site on the squatter’s camp established by Miles of Leadville Running Company. Mike Ambrose set up his North Face tent between mine and Miles’. They've both headed into Leadville to attend to business this morning. The quiet, in combination with a restful night last night, is allowing me -- for the first time since I made the cross-country trek to Colorado -- to collect my thoughts and begin to ready myself in earnest for the speed record attempt.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Just by being here – I’m at just about 10,000’ elevation – I am gaining the last bit of fitness needed to trek 50 – 60 miles per day on the Colorado Trail. Although the trail climbs and descends about 90,000’, the average elevation is just over 10,000’. Sensitivity to high elevation may differ from person to person, but the physics is simple: oxygen exerts less pressure up here. A person going from low to high elevation has to adjust. I have been most aware of the difference when climbing. I can either put a lot more effort into going my usual pace or I can slow my pace and exert my usual effort.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Fortunately I have not been affected by the adverse symptoms experienced by some who travel to high elevation. I haven’t had headaches, shortness of breath, nausea, etc. Until last night (my fifth night) I did have difficulty sleeping, however. Also I noticed that above 12,000’ I feel lightheaded when climbing quickly. Based on a similar trip I made to Colorado several years ago I know that after just a couple of weeks I will be able to perform at a higher level with the same effort. That is why we are here.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I find myself surrounded by legions of people who go to Colorado to get the benefits of training at elevation and, of course, to play in these spectacular mountains. I can see how people get caught up in recreational pursuits here. I’m parked near the Mt. Elbert trail head and don’t know how long I can resist the pull of this high summit. I met Tony Krupicka yesterday in Leadville. For now he has the great fortune of being perhaps the only person with enough sponsorship support to run full-time in the Colorado mountains. Although tired from his recent incomplete attempt at a speed record of Nolan’s 14 (The 14 summits above 14,000’ in the Sawatch range) Tony was already talking about the next set of summits that he’d like to string together. He told me that running below tree-line -- as I’ll be doing for much of the Colorado Trail -- doesn’t hold much appeal for him. If I was a younger guy I’d have a hard time coming down from above tree-line too.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">For now the two big summits I couldn’t resist will have to do. It’s time to rest and think about what will be required to establish a speed record of the Colorado Trail. We will likely be at the mercy of forces beyond our control. Wildfires have already caused closures of multiple sections along the trail. As of this writing there are detours that appear equitable with the standard route. We’ll write more about our decisions as we know more about what the status of the trail will be at the time of our attempt.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />In the meantime enjoy the video illustrating my playtime so far in Colorado!&nbsp;</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-81062946415396905032013-05-21T08:52:00.000-07:002013-05-21T08:52:20.936-07:00A Cruel Jewel in My Crown<b id="docs-internal-guid-18bfa19d-c7c7-0528-fe20-be5cb700a5a2" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-18bfa19d-c7c7-0528-fe20-be5cb700a5a2" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Riddle</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: I’m running away from myself and toward myself at the same time. What am I doing?</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-18bfa19d-c7c7-0528-fe20-be5cb700a5a2" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Answer</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">See below</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-18bfa19d-c7c7-0528-fe20-be5cb700a5a2" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A lot can be written here. There is something mysteriously soul-drenching about smearing oneself across countless miles of serrated wilderness. Those of us who do it know what it really means to be exposed. I could try and fool you -- convince you that once shed of flesh the spirit rises free. I could spin a story about resisting or even defying gravity, not just in one miraculous moment but step after step for well over 100 miles across a lush and notched landscape -- on a course that lures runners upward over 30,000 feet only to be dropped back down again. And while I do have a heightened sense of what glory feels like, I know better the basest attributes left when the body has been defaced.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here’s the beginning: Guy Love asks me to help him run the Cruel Jewel 100 in northern Georgia. He says he wants to run it in 25 hours. Guy Love and I go back. He grew up in the tiny town where I now teach, the only son of two college professors. He approached me wanting to know about running ultras. I gave him the brief and some s-caps. Amongst his fellow trail runners at Virginia Tech Guy Love has blossomed. He crewed for me at the inaugural UROC a year and a half ago. So I want to help. And here is where the truth flashes subliminally across my cortical screen: I only want to help </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">so much</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In an instant I know that I won’t be waiting at remote aid stations working completely in service to someone else’s goals. I won’t be locked in a death-march with an imaginary short-rope connecting me to someone who barely has the will to continue. I see the overlap in our goals and that is about as far as I can stretch. I suggest to Guy that I enter the Cruel Jewel so that we can start and try to run the same pace together. Because I will be attempting a speed record of the 480-mile long Colorado Trail in July, most of my training is at 4 miles per hour, the same pace that Guy will need to maintain in order to complete the Cruel Jewel in 25 hours. And so we are agreed.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At only one point during the run was I aware of a significant tension between my stated goal of training for the Colorado Trail and a desire to compete in the Cruel Jewel. Guy and I have been trekking steadily for about 2 1/2 hours and are on our way down from Scroggin Knob toward Weaver Creek. At the bottom we will simply turn around and climb back up. We cross paths with the leader (Gabe Wishnie) early on the descent, so we know that he is already ahead by a significant distance (as much as 3 miles). Although I never consciously acknowledge engaging competitively, I find myself pressing hard when we turn around and begin to climb. Guy, who up until then had been running right with me, began to lag behind. Only gradually did I realize that I was glowing from the heat generated by the work of my many mitochondria at full bore. I was 15 miles into a 100 mile “training run” and I was causing the wheels to come off of my running partner. I had to consciously pull back and disengage. What Gabe, or anyone else, did on this run would be theirs. My job was to lock in a sustainable trekking pace to the end.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many hours later, with darkness fully upon us, I had settled behind Guy. We worked mechanically up and down monstrous climbs, locked into the beam of our headlamps. Ours was a slow and gradual disintegration. The pace ground down like a machine with ball bearings stripped of lubricant. We rusted under the steady fog and drizzle, squeaking noisily across slick rocks and under fallen trees. At 2am we reached Buckeye Knob having covered 48 miles in 12 hours. We shook slightly with the cold and complete depletion of the effort. The two guys at the White Oak Stomp Aid Station literally gave us the jackets off their backs, and that may have been exactly what was required to keep us going. It got colder and rainier as we crossed over Coosa Bald. The descent to Vogel State Park was slow and torturous. We could imagine little that would keep us going. Race director Willy Syndram had listed that aid station as a quitter location, and we began to accept the real possibility that we would not proceed beyond it. </span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had already hatched a plan to stop and take a nap, because I knew the turnaround was a cabin at the park. Guy finally said aloud that he had serious doubts about continuing, and that he was at least going to stop for a rest. When at long last we made the cabin after 58 miles and over 15 hours we met with what once again turned out to be exactly what we needed to continue -- though it would turn out to be an hour and a half later. The two women at the aid station had prepared hot peppery soup, and then grilled cheese sandwiches. We sat and ate and warmed ourselves. They would hear none of our sob stories, though, and simply left no room for us to quit. Although they threatened to shoo us out quickly, they eventually made way for us to doze on the soft beds long enough to recover our wits and see daylight again. I was still thinking that Guy was going to quit, and if he did, that I would probably quit too. But I wasn’t injured and I knew I could go on. But once again, the truth about myself emerged in an instant. </span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The way back would have to be driven by my goal. My trekking pace would get me back at just before dark. That was the motivation I needed to finish: a race against the darkness. And it implied a naked truth: I could not work in service to Guy Love. I had to tell him so, baldly -- </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will leave you</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> if you aren’t able to keep up. It sounds cruel because it is. I can </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">see</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> another kind of mountain top: the moral elevation of working for someone else, I just can’t get there. I have cried listening to the lyrics of Mumford &amp; Sons “</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">will wait</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for you” because of what that really means: offering up yourself. The only thing that troubles me more than my selfishness is the possibility that I could fool myself into thinking myself better than that. At least, and it is cold comfort, when I put myself on an exposed and uncaring mountain ridgeline some distance from a challenging goal I will have to be honest. All of my success as an ultrarunner comes down to this -- I know myself.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me illustrate with a simple contrast that occurred to me about 85 miles into the Cruel Jewel. Almost 15 years ago I ran my first ultra. Although I had run competitively for 15 years before that, and had hiked the length of the Appalachian Trail, I still got it wrong. The Mountain Masochist is about 53 miles long and requires about 8000 feet of climbing. Although there are substantial stretches of trail, much of the run is on gravel forest service road. I won’t recount the race -- you can read a more detailed account </span><a href="http://explorefatigue.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-first-ultra.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">here</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> -- but there came a point when I simply could not sustain my race as I had imagined it. I slowed to a crawl and limped along completely disillusioned. I had overshot, tackling what seemed the most challenging possible event and letting it literally cripple me. &nbsp;It took around 8 hours and I did not run again for the next two years. At mile 85 of the Cruel Jewel I had been running for about 24 hours including something like 25,000 feet of climbing on terrain far more challenging than that of Mountain Masochist. I was methodically -- and effectively -- rolling out my plan to stay on my intended pace. I swung my arms to power up the climbs and immediately transitioned to a run on the descents. I stayed alert to my hydration and energy, anticipating and correcting any downward trajectory. I knew in that moment that, despite the apparent craziness of the endeavor, I at least could say that I had gotten it right. The extremity of the demand meant that I had little margin to be wrong -- in that case I would have slowed or stopped. I feel uplifted that I can claim that kind of certitude. I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">do</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> what I had set out to. </span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That jewel may be a lump of coal, I don’t know. The goals I set for myself are often couched in comparisons with others -- and I want to be better. It may be an inescapable truth that I am disposed to seek status at others’ expense. I know that I cannot completely give up myself in service to someone else -- that I cannot climb such a sacred mountain. My highest aspiration is for the kind of integrity required to climb the most difficult earthly mountains. What I glean from that may be a cruel jewel, but I hope it is at least real. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></b>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-17513141876357821632013-05-06T11:42:00.000-07:002013-05-06T11:51:36.803-07:00Whether and Running -- and Thunder Rock 100 preview<b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"></b></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sunday, May 5. Beautiful crimson sunrise this morning – something like a rose. Somehow that corner of sky had made way -- everywhere else the gray of early dawn was giving way to the heavy and darkened shadows of clouds billowy with moisture. I awakened unusually alone in the house and faced point blank the toughest aspect of being human: the whether.</span></b></b></div><br /><br /><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whether or not to run. That is the question, infrequently posed. Most of the time the question is settled. Each season we commit to a team or a race – and the workouts follow. Some programs are more flexible than others, but any </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">good</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> program will not readily yield to the predictable shifts in atmospheric conditions.</span></b><br /><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Running events, likewise, go on rain or shine – and thank goodness. We do not want to hand over our decisions to a capricious nature. I ran in the Promise Land 50K in 2006 – held in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia and directed by David Horton. Thunderstorms were forecast and delivered. As we climbed 2600’ up Onion Mountain before dawn the skies unleashed an absolute fury at our insolence. We reveled in it.</span></b></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last weekend I traveled to the Hiawassee drainage basin in southern TN. The precept was a 100 mile event -- called Thunder Rock 100, planned for 2014 by Rock/Creek Outfitters in Chattanooga. Randy Whorton put together a 3-day version and invited enthusiasts to preview his course. The start and finish are along the Ocoee River, and the course crosses the Hiawassee River and runs along numerous smaller waterways. The area is as lush and wild as anything on earth. The weekend got progressively wetter with rain falling much of Sunday. Of course there was never a question of whether to proceed.</span></b></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IyV92TLmok0/UYf6QZyXHPI/AAAAAAAACR8/qbDgvkMYZuE/s1600/ThunderRock1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IyV92TLmok0/UYf6QZyXHPI/AAAAAAAACR8/qbDgvkMYZuE/s400/ThunderRock1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt Hawkins, John Wiygul, Eric Loffland, and Eric Grossman after day 3 of Thunder Rock 100</td></tr></tbody></table><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we came to the Hiawassee River crossing 18 miles in on day 1, the wide traverse was supposed to be knee deep. We scoured the steep bank for a suitable entry. Everywhere we looked the water ran deep and fast. I was with Matt Hawkins, John O’Brien, and John Wiygul. We are parents except for Wiygul, who is one fit 23-year-old. He runs for the Rock/Creek team, competing in ultras and triathlons. I’m down in waist-deep water, slowly placing my chicken-thin legs to find footing against the torrent of icy water, when Wiygul plunges past me. When the water is chest deep and sweeps him off his feet he makes 6 or 7 strong strokes to cross the channel and regain his footing to a small island in the river. Whorton has cleared a trail on the island to the launch point for crossing the main channel of the river, where a rope has been fixed.</span></b></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-374136f2-7b23-06e9-c705-eafecff9e990" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Along with Hawkins, I try to follow Wiygul’s lead. When I get swept off my feet I flail my spindly arms through the water. As I’m being swept downstream it is instantly clear that I can’t make it to the island, so I settle for a large blown down tree extending into the channel from the island and “straining” objects, like me, out of the water. Hawkins has done the same thing and after some attempts at gymnastic maneuvers we scramble across the tree and emerge onto the island, shaken but also invigorated by the adrenaline surge that goes along with visions of being carried away in swollen rivers.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have landed in a thorny thicket, from which we have to very gradually move to get to the cleared trail. When we finally make it we see Dawson Wheeler, the owner of Rock/Creek, who is en route to setting rope across the small channel. Smiling with excitement, he says water is being released early from the dam in anticipation of all the rain that is supposed to fall over the weekend.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have the rope to cross the main channel, but when the river sweeps us off our feet it becomes a hand-over-hand traverse. I didn’t give too much thought to what would happen if I lost my grip, but suffice to say that swept along with the swift current was the remainder of my adrenaline as well as most of my body heat. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our small group recollected itself and probed around for the next section of trail. The drop in core body temperature was disorienting. Wiygul had downloaded the course onto his phone and was using an app to track our progress. It wasn’t perfect though, as we had learned earlier when the indicated course took us on an extended bushwhack. When he told us this time we needed to backtrack a considerable distance, we were skeptical. We ended up asking a passing ranger about any nearby trail that went up the mountain and were quickly directed right across the road. At least the climb warmed us back up.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After running several miles, we were approaching 6 hours on the day -- and, I thought, likely getting toward the end of the 30 miles we were supposed to cover. Sure enough, we soon see Randy’s truck where the trail emerges onto a dirt road. We aren’t finished, though. When we ask how far to go, he says “some number of miles.” When pressed he says maybe 6 or 7 miles. When Wiygul says that we have already done 27 miles (according to his GPS) on a day that is supposed to be 30 miles long, he says OK, maybe it is 3 miles. (I’m not making this up). An hour and a half of survival shuffle later we finally finish. Randy finds us at the trailhead and before racing off to check on another runner locates some recovery drink in his truck for us: bottles of microbrew. I felt better almost immediately.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fortunately I missed the evening libations, which I heard later included moonshine. I had proceeded directly from the finish to Knoxville to catch my son’s soccer match, take him and a friend to the Melton Dam campground, spend the night, and then return for another morning match. That concluded, (two wins) I returned to the heart of the rainforest, and joined the second stage in-progress.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started at the finish of day 2 and ran backwards along the course so that I could turn around when I crossed paths with the runners and just finish with them. I didn’t realize that I’d be running the John Muir and Coker Creek trails twice, thereby getting a double dose of the wildest, most treacherous, and most beautiful parts of the Thunder Rock 100 course. I felt immediately rejuvenated and happily bounded upward in elevation, taking the technical stream crossings in stride and feeling no ill effects from day 1. I ran about 2 1/2 hours before crossing paths with Wiygul, who was again in the lead group. I turned and ran with them until the next turn and then reversed direction again to find the main group. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Randy was running with several others so I joined them for the long descent past Coker falls and then along the John Muir trail. We were along the Hiwassee river when the guys started showing signs of wearing down a little. They asked Randy how much running was left. He said “about a mile.” Four miles later we finished for the day.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The group had reserved cabins near the river where we retreated for showers, beer, and dinner. I’ve met some unique folks, and groups, associated with ultrarunning, but with these guys I was ready to start taking notes for a future ethnography: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Rock/Creek Tribe of the Hiwassee Basin</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Before I could even get started, though, I went native: discussing the advantages of scheduling my Colorado Trail record attempt around the full moon, swapping homemade energy bar recipes, recalling Appalachian Trail thru-hiking adventures. &nbsp;As soon as I’d start to think </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">these people are crazy </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’d also realize</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I fit right in with these people. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got up early for day 3 to cook my usual pre-run oatmeal with nuts and raisins and everybody else was doing the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">same thing</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I was a bit surprised when out of the group of around 20 revelers only 4 of us actually ended up starting the 3rd and final stage from the little town of Reliance to the Ocoee Whitewater Center. I knew better than to heed any quantification of the mileage for the day. I did pay attention, though, when Randy said “follow the Benton MackayTrail the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">entire</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> way.” He was, notably, not among the 4 of us. Our group from day 1 was reconstituted with one substitution: John O’brien had gone home and Eric Loffland had joined. We banded together a bit more tightly than the previous two days. We had assumed a more methodical shuffle, and the near constant rain dampened any feelings of spryness we might have still had.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One long stretch of double track had been recently bulldozed so that the exposed clay grabbed tenaciously at our shoes. We couldn’t avoid it, and as we toiled for footing I thought </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> would surely be the definitive difficulty posed by the final stage. As we ran through pleasantly graded single track in the Little Frog wilderness my suspicion seemed confirmed. We emerged onto Highway 64 knowing that we had one loop on the opposite side of the Ocoee to complete to arrive just a couple of miles upstream at the Whitewater Center. Kris Whorton and Wendy Parker were there to offer aid and encouragement, having finished a shorter route. Kris said the loop should be about 10 miles. That seemed long, but I was used to going further than expected. </span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We got a good pace going, even up the climb, and just shrugged when 2 miles up we passed a sign for a side-trail to the Whitewater Center. It said “2 miles” and we knew our loop was </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">supposed</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to be longer and that we were </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">supposed</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to go another 8 miles. Wiygul must have got an itch, because he started pushing the pace. He and I snaked around the wet and winding trails as fast as we could go. We splashed through creek crossings and ducked around branches. I figured we’d be done in less than an hour at that pace, so what the heck. When the trail ended at an absolutely torrential creek crossing even Wiymur hesitated, throwing his arms up and looking back at me. The he turned, spotted the trail on the opposite side, and waded in. I waded in after him, not wanting to give it too much thought. I was immediately transfixed by the necessity to stay upright despite a LOT of molecules of water bent on toppling me. We crossed the same creek 2 more times and then started climbing in earnest.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wiymur stopped and checked his phone. He said we were way off the track shown. That had happened, before, though, even when we weren’t. We rationalized that maybe Randy had accidentally entered in a shorter route that wasn’t the intended race route. We were certainly still on the Benton Mackaye Trail -- we had been scrupulous about following the signs. I told Wiymur that if we got 1 1/2 hours out on this loop and still hadn’t starting curling around to go back downhill that we would know we were indeed off course. We kept climbing until we were 1 1/2 hours out. My altimeter said we were at 3600 feet. The Ocoee River is at around 800 feet. We were nearly to the top of Big Frog Mountain and headed toward Georgia. </span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We descended a lot faster than we had climbed. We picked up Hawkins and Loffland and turned them around as well. We crossed the creek, now raging even more swiftly, 3 more times. A little over an hour later, when we finally crossed the bridge to the Ocoee Whitewater Center, we were spent, cold, and hungry. Hawkins and I had been fantasizing about Chicago style deep dish pizzas, and now we sped off in opposite directions to find the closest high-calorie joint. I settled for McDonalds. It was getting late in the day and I didn’t want to do a lot of driving after dark. I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> be pragmatic -- just not about </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">whether</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to run. So of course I will run today, and simply soak up whatever the weather throws at me.</span></b>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-5093181745415671262013-04-18T09:58:00.001-07:002013-04-18T09:58:45.301-07:009 Ways to Make Your Next 37-mile Training Run in the Mountains Bizarrely Easy. Seriously.I just got back from a 37-mile training run in the mountains that was literally the easiest 37 miles I have ever run. Because most people do not automatically associate “37-mile training run” and “easy” I have decided to create a list for you. This is what serious people do. I know I’m a serious person because I distinctly remember my 7<sup>th</sup> grade teach saying as I entered the room one day: “Eric, you are the most serious 7<sup>th</sup> grader I have ever seen.” And then just last year my wife said to me: “Lighten up dude.” Part of my serious persona is a certain approach to things, my father-in-law calls it “the German method.” I have a German name. So here is how you do it:<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-goz59VhD4WI/UXAiFTslA9I/AAAAAAAACQ0/fHMJQ_POFbg/s1600/after+37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-goz59VhD4WI/UXAiFTslA9I/AAAAAAAACQ0/fHMJQ_POFbg/s200/after+37.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what serious looks like</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;1. &nbsp; &nbsp;</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Play Mumford &amp; Sons as loud as you possibly can on your car stereo on the way to the mountain. I’m pretty sure that Marcus Mumford is God’s vessel on earth and here’s why I think so. He had me wailing at the top of my lungs -- my voice strained and cracking with sincerity -- as I pulled up to my daughter’s elementary school to drop off supplies she had forgotten at home. The quizzical looks of young children arriving at school turned into true puzzlement as I emerged from the car in my 80s styled running shorts to deliver my package.</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">2.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Put your pot of anger on the back burner and let it simmer. OK, I’m being metaphorical here. But not about the anger. On occasion there is an event in the news that brings into focus the mostly vague and widely dispersed threats to our freedom. And NOTHING pisses me off more than threats to our freedom. Anger, like other passions, is a source of energy if properly managed. That’s why I suggest you cook with it (see #3).</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">3.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bake a pair. This is quicker and more satisfying than to </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">grow</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> a pair. If you follow my recipe you will have Ultra Balls </span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TM</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">, the </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">formula for maintaining vigor mile after mile</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. Unfortunately I cannot fully disclose the recipe to you. I can tell you that it involves grinding nuts – almonds and walnuts, and swirling with honey and, of course, baking. It also involves a dried fruit and one other mystery ingredient that – obviously – I cannot tell you. But you get the idea. You need sustenance of the kind that Ultra Balls</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TM</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> will deliver.</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">4.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Grab a pair. The potency of Ultra Balls</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TM</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">makes them difficult to swallow, so to speak, so you need to grab a pair of apples to go along with them. Using the apple as food on the run is a little trick I picked up in high school. I was both hungry and ready to run so I grabbed an apple and headed out. This food is nearly magical in its perfection. It has an edible wrapper and comes packaged with its own water. In combination with the protein and fat rich Ultra Balls</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TM</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> you will have everything you need.</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">5.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Swing sticks. Also called trekking poles. Use these mainly for the purpose of slowing yourself down. Going slower will not only make the run last longer, but will prevent the strain and potential injury associated with speed. Because poles are long and awkward, you will need to bring foods that can be handled easily such as those in ball form (see #3 and #4). Because poles are long and awkward, you will need a lot of practice prior to your 37 miles of bliss. For this you will need hike the Appalachian Trail (see #6).</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">6.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Hike the Appalachian Trail. While on the trail it is important that you have the following experience. Having spent the night alone at the Flint Mountain Shelter on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee you wake up to a pummeling all-day rain. You have too little food left to wait it out so you make a run for Erwin. Based on previous running experience (in which 7 min/mile pace is “average”) you loosely estimate that going “all out” to compensate for the difficult terrain you can run the 35 miles in 4 hours. You proceed to go all out, romping through the pouring rain and splashing through the river that used to be the trail at maximum cardiac output for 4 hours straight. You have to walk at this point because the skin has basically separated from the flesh on your feet. Also you still have 15 miles to go. After another 5 hours of limping you arrive at the campground in Erwin. You get a ride to Kentucky Fried Chicken, which still sounds good especially since it is AYCE. Because you do not yet have Ultra Balls</span><sup style="text-indent: -0.25in;">TM</sup><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">you eat enough to cause the establishment to consider changes to both its name and its pricing structure.</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">7.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Volunteer to coach your son’s middle school track team. The day before your 37 miler try to arrange for a track workout in which your young son concludes a full set of intervals by literally breezing through 200m in 29s, clearly demonstrating a genetic endowment in which you are implicated.</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">8.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Use self-talk. [You can indicate self-talk in writing later with brackets like this]. The easiest 37 miler ever will still take most of the day, and you will be alone. [Because nobody will want to go with you.] When you have got the hang of staying upright and not tripping on your own poles, you will find your mind wandering onto ideas that under normal circumstances would not seem worth exploring [like “why does this run seem so easy?” or “Should I write a list to my blog?”] Your inner voice will be gentle and encouraging as you explore these “crazy” ideas, as well as stern and ironically condescending when you nearly fall because you got lost in your daydreams [Everyone will be after your recipe - you are so creative…aacK! PAY ATTENTION YOU JACK*SS]</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">9.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Did I say 9 ways? Now that I’ve listed them I think it’s plain that those 8 pretty well cover it. As long as I have you, though, I feel I should tell you I’d probably recommend against applying any of the previous ideas. The problem is that to the extent that you actually pull them off you will become me. You don’t need to be that serious, and I don’t need that kind of competition.&nbsp;</span><!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>The Profile</b></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JL9zoG4-YIs/UXAi0hpVqWI/AAAAAAAACQ8/IosBqDSQy4M/s1600/Over+the+Top+Loop+Annotated.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JL9zoG4-YIs/UXAi0hpVqWI/AAAAAAAACQ8/IosBqDSQy4M/s640/Over+the+Top+Loop+Annotated.PNG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elevation Profile of the "Bizarrely Easy 37-mile Training Run in the Mountains." Start and finish at Skulls Gap. 1. Shaw Gap. 2. Beartree Lake. 3. Creek Junction. 4. Buzzard Rock. 5. Elk Garden. 6. Rt. 603</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></div>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-34465072211856919622013-04-16T11:26:00.000-07:002013-04-17T14:20:31.135-07:00Going for the Colorado Trail Speed Record -- 100th Post<br /><div class="MsoNormal">I finally banged my trekking pole as loudly as I could on a rock. At first I had just said “hey,” as I approached. Then “how’s it going?” a little louder. Then “HELLO!” at the top of my lungs.&nbsp; I could tell the guy was a thru-hiker. He had well-worn sandals strapped to the back of this pack. Now that I was practically on top of him I could see his ear buds. <i>This is why people in the woods shouldn’t listen to iPods</i>, I thought to myself.&nbsp; He doesn’t know what is going on around him. I could be a starving and rabid bear and he’d never see it coming.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The loud clank of my pole must have been enough, because he turned and greeted me with a sheepish smile. He apologized for being into his tunes. My real concern when I had approached was that I would startle him. I could see now that he was too easy going for that. Trekking alone grooving to his music, pausing to talk easily with a complete stranger, he gushed with the kind of energy I associate with those who will make it clear to Maine.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">In the summer of 1998 I hiked the northern half of the Appalachian Trail, interviewing every thru-hiker I caught up with. Although each hiker story is unique, one attribute that resonated across many people I talked with was <i>flow</i>. To thru-hike from Georgia to Maine you literally have to be able to take it in stride. That’s not to say that successful hikers don’t experience obstacles. You can’t take some 5 million steps and not get tripped up. Flow doesn’t imply avoiding obstacles, it means successfully navigating them. The people who do well on the trail (and likely everywhere else!) accept and even embrace the challenges they face. They like to be <i>on the trail</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This past weekend marked my first consecutive days back on the trail. I traversed the spectacular high country of southwest Virginia, first going south through the Grayson Highlands on the AT and into Damascus, and then coming back north on Sunday. Although I didn’t stay out overnight, crossing paths with many thru-hikers reminded me of that sense of immersion and flow that I experience most deeply when I am on the trail.<br />&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Being <i>on the trail</i>means experiencing a steady series of tough but manageable challenges. The most immediate problem is upright locomotion (not a gimme on the AT), followed closely by hydration and fueling. There could be other problems, I suppose, but they seem minor in comparison. The shelter of the southeastern US forests reduces most serious threats of exposure. The bears don’t pose any significant threat. For some people the opportunities to form or cement social relationships is real and potentially exciting. Thru-hiking doesn’t demand knowing others so much as it demands knowing yourself, however. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">When you start your first 2200-mile journey on foot you will be wrong about something. Maybe you will overestimate how much weight you can carry. Maybe you will underestimate how many miles you can walk in a day. There are countless decisions you will have to make for yourself and you will have to change your mind about some things. And here’s what I love about big, physical challenges: to finish you will eventually have <i>to get it right</i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">We live with bloated minds infected with bad ideas that fester like unhelpful gut bacteria. The cushiness of our lives provides the margins needed to keep fooling ourselves and others. We can think, and say, almost anything. You’re <i>entitled</i> to your opinion (we like to say). There are many ways to convince others of your opinions, but having the facts on your side is low on the list. We all need a periodic reality check. Think of long distance events as a colon cleanse for the mind.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">When you strip away the margin for error by tackling something physically difficult you demand a level of honesty with yourself that is otherwise absent in contemporary culture. Traversing long distances on foot within challenging parameters requires a full and accurate appraisal of what you can do – because, of course, the question will be settled. The more demanding the challenge the more rectitude you get to claim. <o:p></o:p><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This brings me (finally) to the real subject of this post. I’m planning, with Troy Shellhamer (and joined by Mike Ambrose), an attempt at the speed record of the 480 mile Colorado Trail (CT). Although I don’t yet want to post exact details about our plan, by definition we will have to go faster than all previous runs in order to claim the record. By all accounts, the margin for error is exceptionally small. This is a difficult trail at high elevation with towering climbs and damaging descents. Before I provide more detail about the CT and previous speed record attempts, however, let me interject a few words about long distance speed records generally.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m43sIPkQwFw/UW2YqFEzCiI/AAAAAAAACQk/Aanddo9V-SQ/s1600/training+at+buzzard+rock.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m43sIPkQwFw/UW2YqFEzCiI/AAAAAAAACQk/Aanddo9V-SQ/s640/training+at+buzzard+rock.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Training for the Colorado Trail speed record attempt in the highest country available in Virginia . Photo: Jenny Nichols</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It looks to me like the frontier for long-distance challenges is the pursuit of <i>fastest known times </i>(FKTs) on established trails. I could write a book about what motivates people to <i>do better</i> (oh wait, I <i>am</i> writing a book about what motivates people to do better!), but for now I’ll distill it down to this: we use our pursuits to define ourselves. So in a sense it is <i>intra</i>personal. You have to push your own limits in order to know what they are. Our pursuits are also <i>inter</i>personal. Your pursuits have to be social and public enough to give others a sense of who you are. Organized competition – as in <i>a race</i> – has surely been a long-standing feature of human social interaction. It makes for a simple and ready comparison between people to define for everyone who is the fastest. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The differences between people are more complex and interesting than the results of a sprint could ever demonstrate, however, so we have evolved a slew of running events and running intensive sports. New sports are being spawned all the time, but trail running and even ultramarathoning have grown rapidly. These events place a premium on a number of personal attributes that are wholly ignored in a typical 5K. There is the staying upright problem that is added by roots and rocks, and as the distances grow, there are a host of management problems that are tested as well. You have to be able to hydrate and fuel yourself over many hours – a problem similar to that posed to thru-hikers. We generally don’t try to use thru-hiking as a sport. A well-known mantra among those on the AT is HYOH or Hike Your Own Hike. As ultramarathons evolve into ever-longer events, however, the overlap between competitive ultras and thru-hikes increases. The use of GPS and internet has allowed for the publication of performances and therefore ready comparisons of contestants who weren’t in the same place at the same time.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Many of us in the ultrarunning community were compelled by the most recent speed record attempt for the AT. In 2011 Jennifer Pharr Davis completed the 2181 mile trail in 46 days, becoming the <i>fastest person</i> to have traversed the AT. The story, well documented in her forthcoming book <i>Called Again</i>, is compelling because it demonstrates the attributes required to set this mark – attributes that many people will likely find surprising. Let’s face it, most races favor guys. People unfamiliar with ultrarunning may assume that a woman who can compete with (and beat) guys has to be more masculine than a typical woman. Imagine a woman boxer, for example, who could legitimately fight against guys. By contrast the only remotely masculine trait that Jen possesses is her height. Jen surpassed the overall AT record on <i>her</i> terms. She got on the trail by being persistent – not impulsive, and stayed on the trail by being steady -- not ballistic. &nbsp;Jen didn’t pretend to be self-sufficient or emotionally independent. She enlisted help from the most capable people available, and accepted the complete dedication of her husband toward reaching her goal. Most tellingly, Jen walked nearly every step of her record. The men who have held the record ran the runnable parts, giving themselves more downtime each night to recover. Jen simply slept less, walking from before dawn to after dark every day. Her record is a not just a personal triumph but a triumph of female strategy in long distance treks.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Jen and her husband Brew effectively used media -- online as well as traditional print and broadcast media – to convey the record attempt and also to define who Jen is as a long-distance hiker.&nbsp; Because of the media landscape we live in I think this kind of self-defining activity will continue to increase. Although it is due for an update, there is a website maintained by Peter Bakwin for the indexing of the fastest known times on established trails (fastestknowntime.proboards.com). Troy, Mike, and I will use that website to post our intentions and our results relative to our attempt at the speed record of the Colorado Trail.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">According to previous posts to that website, Paul Pomeroy traversed the CT in 8 days, 12 hours, and 14 minutes in 2008, and that remains the fastest known time for a supported run of the CT.&nbsp; Paul barely eclipsed the record held by Jonathan Basham, a fellow ultrarunning friend of mine from Virginia. David Horton, a legend in long distance running – and my ultrarunning mentor, then made an unsuccessful attempt at the speed record in 2009. Here’s an excerpt of what he wrote in his blog about the experience:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Going after the CT record might have been my most difficult multi-day attempt so far. The CT record is very TOUGH. The trail itself was tougher than I thought it would be. I averaged 40 miles per day on the PCT and AT and 45 miles per day running across America. Averaging over 54 miles per day on the CT was VERY tough. I started every day before daylight, usually around 4:00 AM and finished every day after dark. My average time on the trail was around 17 hours per day. This left very little time for anything. I was usually in bed 30 to 45 minutes after finishing each day. Each day, the last section ATE my lunch. It took everything that I had to finish each day. I never knew at night if I would be able to go again the next day... Could I have run the next day? Yes. Could I have caused myself or others some serious problems? Yes…<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Does reading that make me nervous about attempting the CT speed record? Yes. This will be the most challenging thing I have ever done. My concern has two important benefits, though. First, the need to get more fit has prompted me to get back on the trail -- and that is where I love to be. Second, I get to cross paths with those younger than me who are discovering themselves for the first time. Their spirit is refreshing. When I passed the young thru-hiker who had been so absorbed with his music, I informed him about the big climb he faced going up Iron Mountain. “Oh good,” he remarked with complete sincerity, “I love big climbs!” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">He’s especially going to enjoy the final climb up Mt Katahdin in Maine. And I’m happy to be reminded of the spirit that gets us over our biggest obstacles.<o:p></o:p></div>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-32550039992015157052013-01-15T11:11:00.002-08:002013-01-15T11:11:22.882-08:00Lance Armstrong on Above GradeThis season I'm writing more than running. My work is focused on motivation in schools. I've started a new blog called Above Grade. Of course I see things from an athlete's perspective, so there considerable overlap. I'm curious to know if you find the comparison of sports-related motivation and school-related motivation as compelling as I do. It was too hard not to write about Lance this week. The fifth post since I started the new blog, therefore, begins with this topical tidbit. I hope you'll check it out and help get a discussion going over there -- not too many people know about it yet! The address is:&nbsp;<a href="http://abovegrade.blogspot.com/">http://abovegrade.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br /><br />Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-7514385936731131472012-12-10T05:52:00.000-08:002012-12-11T03:38:58.799-08:00The Hard Core<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.5231330399401486" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Squishiness has proven a persistently annoying aspect of life on earth. Sure it made sense when all of us were buoyed in that great wet womb of our genesis. And we have made considerable strides with shells, plates, and bones now that we dwell on desiccating and gravity-ruled terra firma. Still, poke or gash us with even a meagre stick and we bleed.</span></b></div><b id="internal-source-marker_0.5231330399401486" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My vulnerabilities have been all too apparent in the five weeks since I ran the Mountain Masochist 50 mile trail run. Hurricane Sandy, itself a mere droplet cast off from Mother Nature's sneeze, had spawned a system of storms that spanned the entire East coast. The Blue Ridge Mountain range in Southwest Virginia was lightly brushed as if by a passing coat tail. It was still enough to cause considerable trevail. By the time of the race on November 3 several inches of snow remained on the parts of the course above 2400' and front runners would have to break trail through some knee-deep snow drifts.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My plans to prepare for the Hellgate 100K were foiled by the fallout. Inflammation of the peroneal tendon on my left ankle cast a shadow over any training I tried. The pain was significant and only manageable by staying on my toes and keeping that ankle rigid when climbing. This might explain the continuous soreness of my left achilles tendon -- not an injury to be toyed with. Finally, a sharp pain at the top of my hamstring was eerily reminiscent of the “deep butt” high hamstring tendon syndrome that can be a multi-year injury for distance runners. The pain plagued me for the last several weeks and prevented me from running at speeds faster than six miles per hour. I kept expecting the pain to pass and to be healed enough to run one of the toughest ultras around.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I considered withdrawing. As the race approached it became clear that if I did start, I was just as likely to have to quit due to injury as to finish, and even if I did manage to limp through I would not be performing at peak fitness -- not only because I was injured, but because injuries had prevented me from training as I would have when healthy. A plethora of personal and professional responsibilities vie for my attention all the time. I could spend the weekend grading final exams, working on the house, or playing with my kids. The scale was perched right on the line between “go” and “don’t go.” The slightest additional weight would have made all the difference. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And there the scale remained even as we rode to event headquarters in Staunton, VA on Friday evening. JJ Jessee drove my van with Micah McFaddin riding shotgun. They were coming to crew for Beth Minnick, who rode in the back with me. We had our feet propped up and our heads resting on our pillows. I dreamily imagined that we were driving through the night toward a distant destination. And then I wished it really was so. Had JJ said he changed plans and was going to drive us through the night to New York City I would have readily gone gone along.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not even the race director’s public provocations at the pre-race briefing could snap my head back into it. He announced that I had the current course record [11:03] and taunted that I wouldn’t be able to break 11 hours. I didn’t want to say out loud that I had serious doubts about my ability to complete the course at all. That I was getting ready to start anyway seemed completely surreal.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even a sense of dread would have been better than the escapist fantasies I was turning to. I was about to be abandoned 66 miles from the safety of the finish, in the mountains, at midnight, and I was starting lame.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About the only thing that registered true at the start was the prayer offered by Frank Gonzales for David Horton. Though Horton seemed himself in every respect this weekend, he will be undergoing major surgery today [He is likely registering at the hospital as I post this]. The normal commotion of the start line gave way to complete quiet. While running ultras may be something people do for recreation, it would be hard to overstate the impact that Horton has had on peoples’ lives. He started the “ultra scene” in the East, and Hellgate is perhaps most representative of what an ultra means to him: huge withering climbs, brilliant wide-open vistas, plenty of brutal technical terrain but also miles of free running. More than that, though, Hellgate is intimate. Entries are capped to keep the numbers low -- 140 runners this year. Horton knows you. And he wants you to face your demons, even if it takes Forever to do it.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many times, including at Hellgate in 2005, I have started a race with grand plans that were gradually worn down until I had to surrender and accept that my fate is subject to forces beyond my control. Hellgate 2012 is the first time I have started a race already surrendered. &nbsp;I had no pretense that I could control the outcome. Of course that didn’t relieve me of the need to prepare -- just the opposite. I outfitted myself with great gear from The Aid Station. I got an amazingly bright Princeton Tec Headlamp and carefully arranged to swap out batteries. And I also left my clothes in the van so that if I did drop on the course I’d be able to get them from JJ and Micah. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As it turns out my fears were well founded. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The ankle and the hamstring hurt enough that I wondered what the other runners would make out of my visible limp. I stayed well behind the front runners. Despite the very easy pace I almost immediately started having stomach trouble. My dinner had not digested and my stomach became painfully distended. I drank water at the first aid station but it just made me more bloated. I picked up my hydration pack and gels at the second aid station but didn’t touch either until 2:30 am when my stomach finally started to empty. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I broke the race into thirds. Two warmup marathons and then the race. The first marathon (OK, 22 miles) ends at Headforemost Mountain and I hoped to be there before 4 am. The second marathon ends at Bearwallow Gap and I hoped to be there before 8 am. The first marathon was nearly all miserable. I started to feel moderately better on the final climb to the Headforemost aid station. I had been able to eat and drink some. As long as I stayed on my toes and didn’t flex my ankle that pain was manageable. The hamstring only hurt when I opened up my stride. I was surprised to find myself in third place leaving the aid station. Jason Bryant had dropped and returned to Camping Gap. Frank Gonzales had apparently taken even longer than I at the aid station. That left Troy Shellhamer (my comrade on many recent adventures) and “some guy way out front” who turned out to be Alister Gardner. Despite my tutelage, which frequently includes sincerely offered tips on how to beat me, Troy was sporting a headlamp that included a blinking red light on the back. This is no doubt a great safety feature for road cycling but for a mountain ultra run through the night this better suited the purposes of his competitors. Unwittingly, Troy helped carry me through two critical periods of the race: the entire first third when I just wanted to shuffle past the miles in meditative oblivion (focused on the blinking red light), and the final third that I’ll detail below.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b><br /><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I fully recognize how bizarre this is going to sound and I myself am tempted to attribute to me some special strength of will or character but the truth is that we just don’t have the right model for how the human body works. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was injured and feeling unwell. I started running at midnight by the light of my headlamp in the mountains. Four hours later I was being HEALED. &nbsp;At 4 am I started the second marathon feeling the way I “should” have felt had I trained optimally, stayed healthy, and then tapered down to a complete rest and (of course) skipped the first marathon. One has to wonder -- would “go run in the mountains” be a better generic prescription for what ails you than “just take it easy”?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I ran the second marathon with alacrity. After Jennings Creek (27 miles) &nbsp;there are two long sustained climbs and descents on gravel and double track that allowed me to open up my stride and blow out the old carburetor barrels. I passed Troy and gapped him by what I thought would be an insurmountable distance. I had apparently suppressed the memory of all the technical single-track in the approach to Bearwallow Gap. I have an edge over Troy on open terrain, but he is very strong and, for a midwesterner, remarkably able to maintain his speed over rocks. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The race starts at Bearwallow Gap. I was about 16 minutes behind Alister and maybe two minutes in front of Troy. More importantly I was one minute ahead of my pace from 2006 when I set the course record. Considering that I had been as much as 23 minutes behind Alister, I thought both the course record and the win were still in play. It sure wasn’t going to be easy. After 44 miles through the night the running was work. Completely gone was the euphoria of the middle marathon. I gritted my teeth and almost felt myself pull at my legs to get them to keep running on the climb out of Bearwallow. Contouring around the mountain I caught occasional glimpses of Troy behind me. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the technical descent before Bobblet’s Gap (about 50 miles) the wear of the run began to show. Cramps in my feet and calves made navigating rocks difficult. My knees hurt. I hadn’t refilled my hydration pack at Bearwallow and ran dry, which kept me from eating. My energy reached a low point just before the aid station. As I refilled and grabbed several chunks of boiled potato Troy arrived. He hooted at his sister who was crewing for him and I knew he’d be excited to be racing me once again so close to the end of an ultra. I overheard her say something about his “double espresso shot” and I figured he was getting ready to get even more amped up. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sure enough he came cruising by me on the road descent after Bobblet’s Gap. I might have smiled to myself if I felt I had the luxury. This would be Troy’s first trip through the Forever section. It doesn’t help for someone to tell you about it -- you have to go through it. Taking it alone is tough. Leading someone may be tougher. Troy runs strong and steady -- I’ve learned that across the many miles we have now put in together. I was happy to once again tuck in behind him. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During a training run three weeks prior I had warned Troy that he shouldn’t wait until the last aid station to make his move on me. So I was just thinking “way to go!” after he had surged on the first downhill of the Forever section when I caught back up to him because he had tripped and fallen. He got right back up and shook it off but the surge was over. He led the full distance of that section with me right behind him. As my energy severely ebbed -- as it must -- so did his. Our pace ground down to a shuffle on those final climbs before the Day Creek aid station. When at last we emerged from the Forever section Troy looked like, well, Hell. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had taken my caffeinated Clif Shot about 10 minutes before, and at the aid station I chugged a small cup of Mountain Dew. Alister had been through 10 minutes before so I knew he was no longer within reach. It was 10:10 and I knew exactly what I had to do to break 11 hours: run every step of the final three mile climb to the parkway. The last three downhill miles are a given -- I could run those fast regardless of what I had been through. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My body -- the squishy part -- did protest. Everything possible had been squeezed from it. “Nothing left here,” it said and just for proof my legs became leaden weights. “Good,” I replied, “then there is nothing left here to care.” And in fact I did feel that everything soft had been stripped away. All that was left was one simple commandment “run every step.” </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No doubt we are fleshy beings held fast to the physical world. Our freedom waves in the breeze like a flag run up a tall pole. We mount ourselves to an infinitesimally thin yet absolutely liberating hard core. We must stake our claim, make our promise, and then hold fast no matter what. That is the essence of human freedom and the greatest joy of our longest runs.</span></b><br /><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b><a href="http://www.extremeultrarunning.com/2012_hellgate/results.pdf" target="_blank"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hellgate 2012 Results: </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.extremeultrarunning.com/2012_hellgate/results.pdf</span></span></a>Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-58853734504782671662012-07-18T08:56:00.001-07:002012-07-18T08:56:38.564-07:00Back to Real Life?I spent the first two weeks of July trekking with a small group from Damascus to Harper's Ferry on the AT. You could call it vacation -- it had that immersive quality that allowed most of my routine "life" to temporarily evaporate. For an average of about 10 hours per day I was consumed with the task of locomoting myself across beautiful - but difficult - terrain as quickly and efficiently as possible. Even the downtime was demanding: hydrating, re-fueling, packing for the next day, pitching camp, and finally recovering. All that focus is quite compelling. I asked one of my comrades in the adventure, Troy, why we put ourselves through so much difficulty. His response? This is when I feel most alive.<br /><br />Maybe that's why coming back to regular life requires some adjustment -- and not just because I'm gimpy from&nbsp;tendinitis. So far I've just tried to switch modes completely. I haven't even tried to reconcile the world I lived in for the past two weeks with the world I normally live in. Like my son after his "Summer Scholars" camp, I am wishing it was next year already and I was in the midst of the 2013 Tour De Virginia. I keep wanting to tweak the stages and get the plan laid out, even though I have more pressing things to do. I want to process the 2012 Tour and write some kind of report, but I haven't been able to get the distance to even begin to really assimilate the experience. So let me just say that will be forthcoming...<br /><br />For now -- I think I can say that I'm well enough. Nearly every required system responded to the demands I placed on it. I felt better than anticipated. My energy stayed high throughout almost every day. That has to be thanks in part to the help of my brother James who had everything we needed ready for us at the end of each stage. My feet did remarkably well. My other comrade Anne had horrific blisters starting from the first day. I had no blister issues (thanks to top-quality socks from Swiftwick and trail shoes from TheAidStation). I did fall more than I would have thought -- 5 times -- with some painful scrapes and bruises. Troy fell once, but he fell hard. Anne fell 13 times, with obvious and painful abrasions to show for it. I think we will all heal in short order and get on track for our next round of adventures -- whether they are escapes from, or approaches to -- real life.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFkO-7wgLvw/UAbcimsd88I/AAAAAAAAB8c/VLa91YZUF18/s1600/start+of+2012+tour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFkO-7wgLvw/UAbcimsd88I/AAAAAAAAB8c/VLa91YZUF18/s320/start+of+2012+tour.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Eric Grossmanhttps://plus.google.com/106872368462181345876noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-80057787004711439172012-07-15T05:33:00.000-07:002012-07-15T05:33:27.374-07:00Tour de Virginia ends at Harper's Ferry!We're at TeaHorse Hostel finishing up breakfast Sunday morning and getting ready for our press conference (with Adam as moderator).&nbsp; More details on the last few days to come soon, but for now, here are the times for the last 3 stages.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3TAiefBStM/UAK4GWPZgJI/AAAAAAAAECk/YX8ecpX2XRs/s1600/tour+times+stages+12-finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="52" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3TAiefBStM/UAK4GWPZgJI/AAAAAAAAECk/YX8ecpX2XRs/s400/tour+times+stages+12-finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-72403780819649281152012-07-12T17:44:00.000-07:002012-07-12T17:45:42.315-07:00Times through stage 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Adam called this evening with updates on times for the past several stages. &nbsp;He said the boys are pretty tired and that Anne was still out on the trail. &nbsp;They'll be starting at around mile marker 22 on the Skyline Drive tomorrow morning (Friday) and finishing where the AT crosses VA 50/17. &nbsp;Loren and I are heading up to help out tomorrow and hope to catch the runners along Skyline Drive somewhere. &nbsp;We're camping at Mountain Lake Campground tomorrow night, 127 Mountain Lake Lane, Paris VA 20130. &nbsp;On Saturday night we'll be staying at Tea Horse Hostel in Harper's Ferry if anyone wants to come out and celebrate. &nbsp;It's unlikely I'll have access to the blog after tomorrow morning. &nbsp;You can try to reach me at 276-232-0395 if you want to arrange to meet up with the runners Friday or Saturday.&nbsp; Thanks for following along on this adventure! &nbsp;~ Robin</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m8YwBGJW4TI/T_9re8pqWUI/AAAAAAAAECY/FC4J8eZi1zo/s1600/Times+stages+8-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="80" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m8YwBGJW4TI/T_9re8pqWUI/AAAAAAAAECY/FC4J8eZi1zo/s640/Times+stages+8-12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-8340790473163045542012-07-11T18:16:00.002-07:002012-07-12T10:06:13.867-07:00Stage 11 - Wed., July 11 (39 miles)<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Sophie crewed for our runners again today and posted this note and pics on Facebook:&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I met the gang as they were coming into Turk's Branch Gap, about mile 11 from their starting point at Beagle Gap, where they departed at 7:15 am. Eric and Troy were together and they weren't needing much aid at this point and were moving well (about 4mph). Just minutes behind them came Anne, looking solid and strong. Her knee was giving her some issues after falling on it in earlier stages but she was still moving well and of course her attitude was upbeat and determined, which will serve her well in the next few days.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I met them two more times along the trail--at Rip Rap (mile 17 for the stage ) and Blackrock (mile 19). Since the weather was cloudy and cool, the trail was so runnable, they had access to aid with all the Shenandoah National Park amenities, and everyone was making such good time, the gang decided to add three miles to the day's stage at the end and then 10 additional miles today (Thursday) in anticipation of the last day's terrain and long miles -- 48-- so these changes will make the last day a shorter day of 35. Good thinking and a smart plan, IMO.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anne and I hiked up to Blackrock together and I was able to snap some great pics which I will post. I also was able to run some sections with Eric and Troy--those guys are moving! Their pace after 400 miles and 10 days was faster than my usual pace on those trails on a good day! Whew!</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">After sharing the beautiful trail with these amazing athletes, I am seriously motivated to consider the Tour de Virginia in the future..."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bK7o47cJwE4/T_246W-rFdI/AAAAAAAAEBk/y8b97lfvaz4/s1600/Anne+-+stage+11+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bK7o47cJwE4/T_246W-rFdI/AAAAAAAAEBk/y8b97lfvaz4/s320/Anne+-+stage+11+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmimpPNbdhg/T_247aFMJrI/AAAAAAAAEBs/LObKTHrltEc/s1600/Anne+-+stage+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xmimpPNbdhg/T_247aFMJrI/AAAAAAAAEBs/LObKTHrltEc/s320/Anne+-+stage+11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Anne scaling the rocks.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9BQUHRGdhnU/T_248LM5CnI/AAAAAAAAEB0/6b0NP14UohA/s1600/Eric+and+Troy+-+stage+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9BQUHRGdhnU/T_248LM5CnI/AAAAAAAAEB0/6b0NP14UohA/s320/Eric+and+Troy+-+stage+11.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These fellows sure are sticking together.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iHf_-UmbwyQ/T_248mgpoiI/AAAAAAAAEB8/oHNWSmBSnvE/s1600/Stage+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iHf_-UmbwyQ/T_248mgpoiI/AAAAAAAAEB8/oHNWSmBSnvE/s320/Stage+11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Robin adds:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I spoke with Troy this evening and learned that the runners tacked on an extra 4 miles to their run bringing the total for the day to 39. &nbsp;I was surprised how energetic Troy sounded. &nbsp;Knowing they have just 3 days remaining must surely contribute to some extra endorphin production. &nbsp;If I understood Troy correctly, I think he said his total time for today was 8:44, Eric's time was 8:55, and Anne's time was 10:11. &nbsp;I'll need to double check that tomorrow. &nbsp;Troy commented on plans to add an extra 10 miles to their stage tomorrow so instead of the planned 34, they'll be doing 44. &nbsp;This change of plans is due to the relative ease of the terrain on this section of the trail. &nbsp;He said they'll be ending at a place called Elk Wallow on Skyline Drive tomorrow evening (Thursday). &nbsp;I can't wait to hear what tomorrow brings for the runners. &nbsp;</span></span></div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-42643128285269556092012-07-11T17:47:00.003-07:002012-07-11T17:47:41.088-07:00Stage 10 - Tuesday, July 10 (41 miles)<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sophie Speidel crewed for the runners today and posted the following on Facebook (Thanks, Sophie!)</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; outline: none; text-align: left; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Facebook post: Tour de Virginia runners are currently on day 10 of their 14 day stage run on the Appalachian Trail through Virginia. All are looking mighty good despite last week's big heat and averaging 40 miles a day--they arrived at Reeds Gap this morning feeling great! So impressed...and I love Anne's dress :-)</span></span></span><br /><span class="hasCaption"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span class="hasCaption"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></span><br /><span class="hasCaption"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Sophie's longer post:</span></span><br /><span class="hasCaption"><span style="line-height: 17px;">All three runners left Crabtree Falls/AT intersection at 6:50 am after hitching a ride from Montebello Campground with a guy who had a 4WD truck. Eric, then Troy right behind him, arrived at Reeds Gap at 11:30. They looked good considering they had just climb Three Ridges! I went down the trail looking for Anne and we made it back to Reeds at 1:00.&nbsp;</span><br style="line-height: 17px;" /><br style="line-height: 17px;" /><span style="line-height: 17px;">After refueling and&nbsp;</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 17px;">hydrating, Anne took off after the guys and I went to Humpback Rocks where I met up with Anne's mom Susan Riddle. The guys came in exactly three hours after leaving Reeds Gap (9miles) and they were NOT happy with the rocks on that section. Anne got there about 4:30 after leaving Reeds, switched out her shoes, and started to make good time to Rockfish Gap. The guys also cranked out a very fast section from Humpback to Rockfish in 1:30 for 7miles...impressive! I had to take off for home at that point but they were scheduled to finish the stage around 6:45 for a sub-12 hour stage for 41 miles. I just got off the phone with Susan Riddle and Anne is scheduled to arrive at Beagle Gap by 8:30.<br /><br />Tomorrow I will crew for the first 20 miles, but the runners have the luxury of the SNP waysides at Loft Mountain and water spigots at campgrounds along the way after that. All seem to be in good spirits and "smelling the barn!" it was a blast to be part of the fun today.</span></span><br /><span class="hasCaption"><br /></span></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNAu_pdaVGg/T_24iEe73PI/AAAAAAAAEBM/9RzADGqbrVU/s1600/Anne+-+stage+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wNAu_pdaVGg/T_24iEe73PI/AAAAAAAAEBM/9RzADGqbrVU/s400/Anne+-+stage+10.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mQwqWpjUamE/T_24iwEiS5I/AAAAAAAAEBU/XZmJrn1wh1A/s1600/Troy+-+stage+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mQwqWpjUamE/T_24iwEiS5I/AAAAAAAAEBU/XZmJrn1wh1A/s400/Troy+-+stage+10.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1b5rMtjZGBk/T_24jYWJG-I/AAAAAAAAEBc/-EvcIpLs8fk/s1600/WEG+-+stage+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1b5rMtjZGBk/T_24jYWJG-I/AAAAAAAAEBc/-EvcIpLs8fk/s400/WEG+-+stage+10.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br /><div class="fbPhotoTagList" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span class="fcg" style="color: grey;"><br /></span></div><br /><br />Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-67518198187049069262012-07-10T18:51:00.000-07:002012-07-10T18:51:28.359-07:00Stage 9 - Monday, July 9 (41 miles) Rebekah's account<h4><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rebekah crewed for the runners today and posted the following on Facebook:</span></h4><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Stage 9 - 41 miles: Though the temps were lower today, the humidity was very high. I was able to crew the entire stage and each time I saw the runners, it looked as though they had jumped in a lake. They all had very solid days and each enjoyed the miles not having to worry about water and supplies. I was able to provide 5 aid stations with fruit and snacks. They did get caught in a bad thunder, lightening, and rain storm. Nevertheless, they all finished strong.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">We even had a little excitement getting them out of the ending point. I took my Honda station wagon for a 4 miles jaunt on a road marked for 4-wheel vehicles only. There was one particular point that was pretty scary. I got in and out (with my runners) by the skin of my teeth. Whew. &nbsp;But, we aren't sure how to get them back in the morning. I have had to return home and the tour van cannot make it all the way in. They may need to hike an extra 2.5 miles up to the trail before the stage even begins. Stay tuned.</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Eric - 10:45</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Troy - 10:22</span><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anne - 12:17</span><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br /><h4><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Robin's addendum to Rebekah's note:</span></h4><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I talked with Eric this morning and learned that a guy in a pick-up truck drove the runners to the start. &nbsp;Somehow people keep showing up out of the ether just when they are needed along this Tour. &nbsp;</span>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-47949979071884968642012-07-10T18:45:00.000-07:002012-07-11T19:01:09.235-07:00Stage 8 - Sunday, July 8 (34 Miles) Nursing experience comes in handyAfter a relatively restful night, the runners were slow to leave the comfort of Rebekah's home on Sunday morning. &nbsp;Gone were the 6 am starts. &nbsp;We practically had to push them out the door at 6:20 am for the 45 minute ride up the mountain to the starting point. &nbsp;Adam shuttled them to the start while James, Loren, and I stuck around and treated ourselves to some breakfast goodies Rebekah had spread out like a buffet fit for calorie deprived ultrarunners. &nbsp;Just last night Troy was estimating that they are running around a 3500 calorie per day deficit. &nbsp;That's a pound a day. &nbsp;Jenny Nichols recently asked me if I could tell if the runners had lost weight. &nbsp;"Well, it's hard to say," I told her. &nbsp;"Eric had to loosen up his shoelaces yesterday and Anne's knees are so swollen." &nbsp;The runners legs are pretty well torn up with bug bites, scrapes, heat rashes, stinging nettle irritations. &nbsp;It's hard to see the weight loss for all the fluid retention. &nbsp;And that brings us to today's stage. &nbsp;A new malady, a new affliction and the reason for the title "Nursing experience comes in handy." <br /><br />Loren and I set off for Sunset Fields at the leisurely time of 10 am, stopping at the convenience store along the way to purchase the much appreciated ice and arriving around 11 am. &nbsp;With a 27 pound 2 year old at my side or riding on my shoulders, a cooler with sodas and a 10 pound bag of ice, a coffee can filled halfway with water and 2 wash cloths (for runners to soak their heads and rinse off sweat), and a backpack with a change of clothes for the 2 year old, some snack crackers for the runners, a towel, and a water bottle, we set off down the trail to the AT crossing. &nbsp;While it was just a third of a mile to the AT crossing, I felt as though I had trekked much further. &nbsp;Once we got to the crossing, we settled in to wait for the first runner. <br /><br />Eric was the first to arrive, talking hurriedly about how he had heard that Troy had fallen and torn up his hands pretty badly. &nbsp;While I was planning to head back to Emory after this aid station, Eric thought I might need to stay longer in case Troy needed to be taken to a hospital. &nbsp;I assured Eric I would help in any way necessary and off he went. &nbsp;Just 10 minutes later, I heard Troy talking on the phone (no surprise there) and moving deftly along the path. &nbsp;He didn't seem that bad off, but one look at his hands and knee and I knew he must have been shaken up pretty badly by his fall. &nbsp;He indicated that he sees this kind of thing in urgent care all the time and he was quite certain that he needed stitches, but he was not stopping the stage. &nbsp;By the time he got to an urgent care center, he figured it would be too late to stitch the wound, so he was just planning to super glue it that night. <br /><br />I'm not sure if the heat was causing Troy to hallucinate, but he told me that 6 nurses came to his aid after his fall. &nbsp;6 female nurses out for a hike with antiseptic and steri-strips on hand to tend to their ailing comrade (Troy's a nurse). &nbsp;This seemed a little too mystical to me and when I told Eric about it, he said, "Only Troy. &nbsp;Only Troy." &nbsp;The nurses lifted Troy's spirits as we was pretty shaken up by the whole incident. &nbsp;By the time he got to my aid station, he was carrying a wadded up bit of cloth to cover his wound and indicated the steri-strips had fallen off after an hour. &nbsp;He lingered very little at my aid station and pressed on. &nbsp;It wasn't long before Rebekah appeared after having crewed for the runners a couple other times already that morning. &nbsp;She asked me to wait for Anne while she headed on to meet up with Eric and Troy down the trail. &nbsp;When Anne arrived, she seemed in good spirits and seemed to be moving along fairly well. &nbsp;I learned later that Anne had quite a low point between my aid station and the seven miles when she next saw Rebekah. &nbsp;At that point, with 10 miles remaining for the day, I heard that Anne was ready to throw in the towel. &nbsp;She had had enough. &nbsp;Somehow she pressed on and finished the stage at the James River. &nbsp;I was fortunate to get to talk with Rebekah Sunday night to hear how the stage finished out. &nbsp;She shared that Anne had talked with her husband, Mark Lundblad, and daughter, Ellie, that night, and they encouraged her to press on. &nbsp;I think 12 year old Ellie said something like "What would your fans think if you quit now?" <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8LzPVhJA7Fk/T_ouvMukoZI/AAAAAAAAD_E/SBhXrM5L7F8/s1600/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8LzPVhJA7Fk/T_ouvMukoZI/AAAAAAAAD_E/SBhXrM5L7F8/s320/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%25288%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br />The last time I saw Eric and Troy today was at a point about 10 miles from the finish. &nbsp;When Eric arrived, I told him about seeing Troy and eased his mind about Troy's well being. &nbsp;I also told him Troy was only 10 minutes behind him to which Eric replied, "I don't want to take a man out while he's down." &nbsp;Eric took his time drinking a soda, refilling his pack with ice, and chatting with me and Rebekah. &nbsp;It wasn't long before Troy arrived. &nbsp;He dropped off his trekking poles figuring he could no longer carry them given his wound. &nbsp;He and Eric would finish out the day together, clocking in at 9 hours 7 minutes. &nbsp;Anne's time for Stage 8 was 11 hours 24 minutes. <br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d-1XG_9Y300/T_ou0hi6P9I/AAAAAAAAD_o/doSYBg9Vy0c/s1600/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d-1XG_9Y300/T_ou0hi6P9I/AAAAAAAAD_o/doSYBg9Vy0c/s320/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%252812%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebekah helps Eric with a refill</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzVpTbfrbeg/T_ou77-ZcZI/AAAAAAAAEAU/bnbedUSor54/s1600/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bzVpTbfrbeg/T_ou77-ZcZI/AAAAAAAAEAU/bnbedUSor54/s320/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%252817%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even a hand injury that needs stitches doesn't get Tory down</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOjR2qlj8BA/T_ou9DEZ9KI/AAAAAAAAEAc/JCDI49Gw1uw/s1600/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOjR2qlj8BA/T_ou9DEZ9KI/AAAAAAAAEAc/JCDI49Gw1uw/s320/2012.7.8+Stage+8+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Troy gives Eric the lowdown on his injury<br /><br />(I don't have any pictures of Anne from today. &nbsp;I think I got some video when I saw her at the aid station though.)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-78700158636493051312012-07-09T19:57:00.001-07:002012-07-10T10:18:24.017-07:00Stage 7 - Saturday (42 miles) Queen Anne and the Vespa mandarinias<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ii2tkIR5LY/T_ouMDgOHoI/AAAAAAAAD7w/TWAhpuphoE0/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Ii2tkIR5LY/T_ouMDgOHoI/AAAAAAAAD7w/TWAhpuphoE0/s400/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25284%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne, Troy and Eric<br />6 am start the morning of Stage 7</td></tr></tbody></table>Honey has been a recurring theme on this tour. &nbsp;James learned how to catch a swarm of bees while we were at Wood's Hole Hostel. &nbsp;Prior to that, he met a man who shared tips on how to tend bees. &nbsp;Across the street from Four Pines Hostel was the most extensive collection of bee hives I've ever seen. &nbsp;James gifted me with a jar of local honey today. <br /><br />Today's post is titled "Queen Anne and the <i>Vespa mandarinias." &nbsp;</i>I had intended to call it "Queen Anne and the Worker Bees," but after I learned worker bees are all females, that hardly seemed appropriate. &nbsp;"Queen Anne and the Drones" wouldn't have fit either since the drones are known for lazing around the hive waiting to mate with the queen. &nbsp;Though in some sense, drone may have been appropriate because once the drone has done his duty, he dies. &nbsp;Perhaps Queen Anne is waiting to make her move and ensnare the two males remaining on this Tour de Virginia, discarding them as she forges ahead to the finish. <br /><br />While Eric and Troy are duking it out with one another, chatting it up, and intent on not letting the other get too far out of sight, Anne spends the day in relative solitude. &nbsp;Unlike Troy, who is nearly always connected to some electronic gadget or another, Anne passes the time tuned in to some other thoughts and sensations. &nbsp;I've often asked Eric what he thinks about all that time while he's out on the trail. &nbsp;He thought that was quite a bizarre question. &nbsp;I wonder what occupies Anne's mind all those hours she's out on the trail by herself.<br /><br />I saw Eric and Troy at the 20 mile mark today as they crossed VA 220 near Daleville. &nbsp;It was hot, extremely hot, and they were more than grateful for the ice cold sodas and the chance to fill up their packs with ice water. &nbsp;When Anne came along an hour and 15 minutes later, she too was grateful, telling me that if no one had been at that spot, she would have considered ducking into the convenience store to purchase a lemonade. &nbsp;She wondered aloud if that would be against the rules. &nbsp;Seriously?! She's worried about some manner of rules on a day like today when any<i> normal</i> ultrarunner covering 40+ miles in 100+ heat would be seeking any form of hydration necessary to maintain some sense of equilibrium. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfmg00YWsm4/T_ouQgteczI/AAAAAAAAD8I/Eop0213kq7I/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfmg00YWsm4/T_ouQgteczI/AAAAAAAAD8I/Eop0213kq7I/s200/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25287%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVTwgYt3oLM/T_ouNUPCinI/AAAAAAAAD74/lUkWtCIF-1g/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVTwgYt3oLM/T_ouNUPCinI/AAAAAAAAD74/lUkWtCIF-1g/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25285%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">20 miles in on Stage 7</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I next saw the runners at an AT crossing near the Blue Ridge Parkway with about 8 miles to go for the day. &nbsp;Loren and I had walked down the trail a ways to wait for them to arrive. &nbsp;After about an hour, I heard voices, realized it was Eric and Troy, and then noticed they had stopped. &nbsp;They had not yet spotted me. &nbsp;If they had seen me and Loren, I imagine Troy may have not let the stream of curse words spew from his mouth. &nbsp;It turns out he had been stung in the rear by a wasp. &nbsp;Our male runners were getting a little taste of their own <i>Vespa mandarinia</i> today. Fortunately I had the Flip camera with me and caught Troy's reaction to that incident on film. Adam should be posting a video soon. I was somewhat surprised to see Troy and Eric still together at this point. &nbsp;I recall Eric telling Troy that he could certainly try to take it out and pull away from him, but doing so on a 100+ heat day might prove detrimental to Troy for the following stage. &nbsp;Ahh, the psychological games these boys are playing with each other. &nbsp;This Tour is finally beginning to feel like a race to me. &nbsp;These guys are serious about competing with each other. &nbsp;Eric and Troy snagged some more fluids and headed on towards the finish. &nbsp;Anne came along just 1 hour and 30 minutes after Eric and Troy had come through. &nbsp;She looked strong as ever, barely pausing to get any aid, and pressed on for the remaining 8 miles. &nbsp;Another stage was coming to an end for the runners. &nbsp;7 down, 7 to go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KQRlzJaqK-w/T_ouTfCjweI/AAAAAAAAD8c/ZFikiL46Gr8/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KQRlzJaqK-w/T_ouTfCjweI/AAAAAAAAD8c/ZFikiL46Gr8/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25289%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mbtymdiCB4Q/T_ouUhz0lvI/AAAAAAAAD8k/nXfLuHP5aP8/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252810%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mbtymdiCB4Q/T_ouUhz0lvI/AAAAAAAAD8k/nXfLuHP5aP8/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252810%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ybRMlb0KRAo/T_ouahSlahI/AAAAAAAAD9E/x-_KCM8LyEc/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252814%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ybRMlb0KRAo/T_ouahSlahI/AAAAAAAAD9E/x-_KCM8LyEc/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252814%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mAjpeYW8XjI/T_ouej1pk_I/AAAAAAAAD9g/rg_8g2a--LY/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mAjpeYW8XjI/T_ouej1pk_I/AAAAAAAAD9g/rg_8g2a--LY/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252817%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric looks like he's suffering pretty well here,<br />but in reality he's rinsing off his face.<br />I've seen him look much worse, but I<br />am quite certain he was glad for the stage to be over.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrEuChXNq5w/T_ouf-549lI/AAAAAAAAD9o/gUKh0SfQfGM/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252818%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrEuChXNq5w/T_ouf-549lI/AAAAAAAAD9o/gUKh0SfQfGM/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252818%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam looked refreshed. &nbsp;He went to his<br />grandmother's house today and did laundry for<br />runners. &nbsp;I think he may have taken a nap too.<br />How could you, Adam? &nbsp;Don't you need to be<br />suffering along with the runners?</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-id2XQXIRz2U/T_ouiyQSscI/AAAAAAAAD94/YTMOuok1Ae4/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252820%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-id2XQXIRz2U/T_ouiyQSscI/AAAAAAAAD94/YTMOuok1Ae4/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%252820%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stage 7 is in the bag. Time to head to Rebekah's house.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0ys0MK4Eps/T_ouluG8uhI/AAAAAAAAD-I/ssYdxDuhxbQ/s1600/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j0ys0MK4Eps/T_ouluG8uhI/AAAAAAAAD-I/ssYdxDuhxbQ/s320/2012.7.7+Stage+7+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebekah's lovely home was quite a treat Sat. and Sunday nights</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-73616660268099651072012-07-09T14:25:00.001-07:002012-07-09T14:25:15.232-07:00Video from Stages 3 and 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/L17EO863tJU?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br />Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-30310484393883258082012-07-08T19:00:00.001-07:002012-07-08T19:00:49.695-07:00Stage 6 - Friday, July 6 (39 miles)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3EFCSmMSRLI/T_ouHe_PCmI/AAAAAAAAD7M/H5AGZEA3s28/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252816%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3EFCSmMSRLI/T_ouHe_PCmI/AAAAAAAAD7M/H5AGZEA3s28/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252816%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eric's birthday bouquet with next day's lunch</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">I've often heard Eric express his gratitude for the chance to spend the day on the mountain, moving through space under his own power, up and over mountains, across streams, around obstacles, in any manner of weather. &nbsp;He's certainly fulfilling that freedom on this Tour. &nbsp;Today (Friday, July 6) he celebrates his 44th birthday. &nbsp;What a way to celebrate. &nbsp;After today's trek, cumulative mileage for the Tour is 247.</div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mV7u1ka1B7o/T_ot0bWefLI/AAAAAAAAD5Q/eD1Qqk1zMbM/s1600/Stage+6+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mV7u1ka1B7o/T_ot0bWefLI/AAAAAAAAD5Q/eD1Qqk1zMbM/s640/Stage+6+map.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stage 6 route began at the AT crossing at VA 601 and ended at VA 311 in Catawba for a total of 39 miles</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: white;">I arrived at the McAfee Knob parking lot at VA 311 at 6:30 pm with our two year old daughter, Loren Rose. &nbsp;Eric had gotten a ride back to Four Pines Hostel with the owner, Joe Mitchell. &nbsp;Troy had just finished for the day and opted to catch a ride back to the hostel with me, while Adam waited for Anne and Rob to arrive. &nbsp;Back at the hostel, Eric was freshening up with a shower before his birthday dinner of hot dogs with chili and boiled salted potatoes. &nbsp;James tells me the potatoes are an old tradition of salt miners. &nbsp;They were quite tasty. &nbsp; With today's extreme temperatures, the salty meal was a perfect fit for the runners. &nbsp;</span></div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AJ6JjQ0KyWc/T_ot5ax6M6I/AAAAAAAAD5w/OXHYxtWECq4/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AJ6JjQ0KyWc/T_ot5ax6M6I/AAAAAAAAD5w/OXHYxtWECq4/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25285%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne at the supply trailer - time to prep for the next day</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h1KGz8alg74/T_ouCaA840I/AAAAAAAAD6s/UPtXEjQjv00/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h1KGz8alg74/T_ouCaA840I/AAAAAAAAD6s/UPtXEjQjv00/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252812%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ouch! &nbsp;Rob's legs took a beating today.</td></tr></tbody></table>Once Anne and Rob returned to the hostel, we were grateful another stage of the Tour was officially completed. I sensed a foreboding in the air though as Rob seemed pretty distant, not just your typical end-of-the-day fatigued kind of distant. &nbsp;He had had a pretty rough day, made even worse by the realization that he had another six or so miles to go after he saw a sign to the hostel where we were staying. &nbsp;Apparently, the hostel is pretty close to the AT, but today's stage ended at the top of another long climb several miles beyond the hostel. &nbsp;Eric had contacted James during the day to tell him to go out to that section of the AT and put up a sign telling our runners to keep going. &nbsp;Nothing like having your hopes dashed that you might be nearing the end of a long, hot day, only to realize you have many more miles to go. &nbsp;I also heard some grumblings about Dragon's Tooth which was scaled towards the end of this day's stage. <br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kOwnkrgxkzc/T_ot_7ta4vI/AAAAAAAAD6c/kcieeHBjIYw/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252810%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kOwnkrgxkzc/T_ot_7ta4vI/AAAAAAAAD6c/kcieeHBjIYw/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252810%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for the evening check-in</td></tr></tbody></table>What Rob really needed at this point was some food and time off his feet. &nbsp;As Rob began his meal, our new thru-hiker friend whose name I didn't catch (I'm sure James and Adam know it) was still working on his dinner. &nbsp;He had already finished off a gallon of whole milk and four or five venison burgers which he ate on his homemade plate fashioned from a cardboard box. &nbsp;Several other thru-hikers arrived that evening and I began to wonder if any of our guys would get any sleep if they chose to stay in the garage. &nbsp;I imagined the thru-hikers weren't as concerned about going to sleep at a reasonable hour as I doubted they had plans to start hiking by 6 am the next morning. &nbsp;I asked Rob if he needed help setting up his tent, but he indicated he planned on sleeping in the garage. &nbsp;I learned the next morning that Rob had bailed on the garage arrangements some time during the night to seek other sleeping arrangements. &nbsp;A sound night's sleep wasn't in the cards, but then again, I wonder if anyone has gotten a decent night's sleep during this Tour. &nbsp;A few snapshots from our time at Four Pines:<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z69Q4kkjg1E/T_ot7yJlZsI/AAAAAAAAD6A/ml7F7yvX_2w/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25287%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z69Q4kkjg1E/T_ot7yJlZsI/AAAAAAAAD6A/ml7F7yvX_2w/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25287%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't touch my Nutella! &nbsp;Nighttime preparations for tomorrow's lunch. <br />Eric's regular lunch on the Tour includes<br />two almond butter and Nutella sandwiches and an apple.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppffinqRwiU/T_ot-h-_x1I/AAAAAAAAD6Q/BUnPVjEScZc/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ppffinqRwiU/T_ot-h-_x1I/AAAAAAAAD6Q/BUnPVjEScZc/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25289%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh &nbsp;,<a href="https://www.thestick.com/" target="_blank"> the stick</a>!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wia8WepKajQ/T_ouDpvnZyI/AAAAAAAAD60/8rITYwP5b9o/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252813%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wia8WepKajQ/T_ouDpvnZyI/AAAAAAAAD60/8rITYwP5b9o/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%252813%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne's blistered feet. &nbsp;Man she's tough!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fzBdDFZY89k/T_ouIgqNN2I/AAAAAAAAD7U/yaKYR-L-BRU/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fzBdDFZY89k/T_ouIgqNN2I/AAAAAAAAD7U/yaKYR-L-BRU/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25281%2529.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pack is prepped for the next day. &nbsp;Thanks, Rebekah, for making<br />laminated mileage charts for everyone for every stage of the Tour!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WN8egium6qA/T_ot9dDhyLI/AAAAAAAAD6I/jLggZlLFw3s/s1600/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WN8egium6qA/T_ot9dDhyLI/AAAAAAAAD6I/jLggZlLFw3s/s320/2012.7.6+Stage+6+%25288%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam reading the hikers' guest book at Four Pines Hostel</td></tr></tbody></table>Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-16034714188567909512012-07-07T18:42:00.000-07:002012-07-07T18:42:41.919-07:002 down, 3 remainBy now you probably know that Rebekah had to call it quits after Thursday's long 46 mile day.&nbsp; You can read what she's processed about the experience so far on her <a href="http://rebekahtrittipoe.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>.<br /><br />After a long night spent battling whether or not to press on today, Rob threw in the towel.&nbsp; As you can imagine, it was an extremely difficult decision. I understand that Rob's achilles tendons were really bothering him and he was having other over-use injuries that would have only been exacerbated by proceeding.&nbsp; While he would have loved to join us at Rebekah's house this evening, he decided it would have been too difficult knowing he wasn't able to join us after completing today's stage.<br /><br />So that brings us to now, relaxing in the cool comfort of Rebekah's house after a delicious dinner of BBQ chicken, roasted potatoes and carrots, salad, baked beans, fresh baked bread, iced tea, apple crisp with ice cream, and two other desserts I can't recall.&nbsp; You can imagine how much the runners appreciated this feast (I'll write more later about what a great job brother James has done crewing and cooking).&nbsp; <br /><br />Today's run was extremely hot, high of 103.&nbsp; I'll write more tomorrow about my observations of the runners.<br />Of course, it would be great if Eric or Anne or Troy could write about their day, but they are too busy with the little spare time they having packing their supplies for the next day, eating, and trying to get some sleep.<br /><br />At the present moment (9:29 pm on Sat.), Eric, Anne, and Troy are strategizing about plans for tomorrow.&nbsp; Looking ahead to the end of the Tour de Virginia, Eric says, "basically, it's going to be the last person standing." He and Troy are having a lively debate about the rules of the Tour de France in terms of finish times (rounding to nearest minute, etc.).&nbsp; Troy reminds us about the notion of rounding to the nearest quarter hour for the Tour de Virginia.&nbsp; Wouldn't that help the timekeepers keep track of total times?<br /><br />Weather forecast for tomorrow is a high of 99. "Well, that will be cooler than today," says optimistic Annie. And she continues,"so we'll just survive tomorrow, and we've got it made in the shade." <br /><br />Eric is pressng me to get to bed so I'll stop for now.&nbsp; I'll post pictures tomorrow night.&nbsp; Adam will post a new video soon.Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3780660902133427157.post-78872890067022729842012-07-07T18:22:00.000-07:002012-07-09T18:24:44.289-07:00Stages 5, 6, and 7 times<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-15og6ScqBT8/T_uENiHXonI/AAAAAAAAEBA/40C3PFougU0/s1600/Times+for+stages+5-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-15og6ScqBT8/T_uENiHXonI/AAAAAAAAEBA/40C3PFougU0/s640/Times+for+stages+5-7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Robin O Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04351522737934636481noreply@blogger.com1